


I'm The Kind Of Human Wreckage That You Love

by Remy_Writes5



Series: Unrequited Love [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Asphyxiation, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Eventual Character Death, Felching, Fluff, M/M, Not Series 2 Compliant, Public Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Smut, Tragedy, Unrequited Love, Violence, opera - Freeform, suit fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:39:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remy_Writes5/pseuds/Remy_Writes5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's is off to the pub to drink away being rejected by Sherlock. Jim is at the pub to kill someone or shag them, he hasn't quite decided yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally titled Better Than None but I liked this title more. I think it fits better than the original title. This title comes from My Chemical Romance's song Blood.

Translated into Chinese [here](http://darkside.orzweb.net/viewthread.php?tid=281&extra=page%3D1) amd [here](http://mtslash.com/viewthread.php?tid=40484&extra=page%3D1) . Possible Translations into Spanish, French and Russian coming soon!

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John left the flat hating himself more than he ever had in his entire life. He headed straight for the pub, ready to drink away his sorrows. He wanted to drink himself into a stupor until he forgot this whole rotten night. It seemed like the best course of action considering the circumstances.

He couldn't believe he had been so bloody stupid. Kissing Sherlock had to be one of the biggest blunders of his life. It was made even worse by the fact that Sherlock had turned him down flat, not even bothering to return the kiss. In fact Sherlock's exact words before he disappeared into his room were "not interested." That was all John got of a rejection, two words mumbled with indifference. He thought after the relationship they'd built over the past year, he deserved more than that. He deserved a conversation. 

Now he just wanted to drink, pass out and forget all about his flat-mate who he had stupidly fallen in love with. The best case scenario was that this wouldn't ruin everything. Sherlock probably wouldn't care that John was in love with him, so it was up to John not to cock this up. As long as he pretended everything was fine, things wouldn't change between them. He just needed to make his feelings go away.

It was going to be a slow process but his relationship or lack thereof with Sherlock was worth it. They needed each other, John knew that much. Even if it would never turn into anything more, he needed Sherlock and the adventure his lifestyle provided. He would go mad if he didn't have excitement in his life, which Sherlock provided in spades. So John would just have to suck it up and deal with it in the only way he knew how, getting pissed.

XXXX

Jim Moriarty didn't often feel lonely. After all, there were almost always people around and he was usually too busy to concern himself with being lonely. It was rarer still that he craved human interaction. Most people he found tedious and dull and could hardly stand to be in someone's presence for an extended period of time. But still, when there was a lull in his work, Jim found himself in need of a night out, realizing what a solitary life he led.

He'd managed to call off Moran for the evening and excused his security detail. He didn't want someone from his employ hanging around. This was much too human a need for the Consulting Criminal and he didn't want to show weakness in front of his employees. He preferred to keep his employees in a constant state of terror simply so they wouldn't cross him. Well, that and he enjoyed it. 

When he got to the pub, he wasn't sure if he was there to shag someone or murder them. The night really could go either way. He walked in wearing jeans and a t-shirt, dressing down to seem less intimidating. People were always underestimating him and they had done his entire life. Jim loved showing them just how wrong they were, taking great pleasure in it. He sat down at the bar and ordered a pint of bitter, scanning the room for someone interesting.

His blood ran cold when his eyes settled on the unassuming army doctor sitting alone in a corner booth. Jim struggled with himself for a moment, wondering what the best course of action was. He had come here to forget being James Moriarty and just be Jim for one night. Going up to John would certainly negate that, no matter how much he wanted to go over and mess with the man's head. Besides, he was completely on his own, no Moran, no backup. He wasn't entirely defenseless, but he liked to be holding all the cards. 

He took a moment to appraise the man. Their last encounter at the pool had been brief and Jim had been focused on Sherlock. Now he took his time looking over the doctor. He was almost the same height as Jim. His sandy blond hair had patches of gray in it. His eyes were a bright blue with deep bags underneath. The poor bloke looked even more rundown than usual. Jim thought over what he currently had ongoing but couldn't think of anything Sherlock would concern himself with. It was mostly higher up political stuff, much more Mycroft's area. If Sherlock was running John ragged, it had nothing to do with Jim.

He had been staring so long and had been lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't noticed John staring back. Jim turned his face away, hoping John hadn't recognized him but knowing it was futile. Jim turned back to see if John was calling Sherlock or the police. John, in fact, was not doing a thing other than drinking his pint. Jim swore he saw a flicker of understanding cross over the army doctor's face. Jim grinned and raised his pint, giving John a slight nod. To his surprise, John also raised his glass and they both drank.

XXXX

John had no idea how it had gotten to this point. One minute he was drinking alone – wallowing in self-pity and ready to spin into a fit of depression – the next he had locked eyes with Moriarty. Just when he was thinking his night couldn't get any worse, James bloody Moriarty had to stroll into his pub. The criminal mastermind was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which oddly looked good on him. He looked normal compared to the last time John had seen him. It was probably just a way to make people underestimate him so he could kill them easily or something.

But now they were crashing through the back door of the pub, biting and sucking at each other's lips, tearing at the other's clothes. Jim's stubble was rubbing against John as they attacked each other's mouths. Jim wrenched John's head back by his hair and bit at his neck, breaking the skin.

"Fuck!" John cried out and pushed Jim against the brick wall in the alley. Jim smirked before John kissed the expression off of him. He pinned the Consulting Criminal's hands up above his head and pressed their bodies together.

"A tryst in a dark alleyway. Bit cliché, don't you think Doctor?" Jim remarked snidely.

"It was either this or the loo." John shrugged, unashamedly rubbing his raging hard-on against the other man's, making them both groan. John let Jim's hands free, needing to be touched.

"You surprise me Doctor, this is not the outcome I was expecting when you saw me." Jim confessed, raking his fingers through John's hair, fingernails scratching his scalp.

"Maybe I feel like doing something stupid." John growled, reaching down and undoing Jim's jeans.

"I didn't know you were capable of doing anything smart." Jim joked.

John rolled his eyes to keep from confirming that lately, he had done an extraordinary amount of idiotic things, top of the list being falling in love with an extremely unavailable mad genius. So instead he was going to fuck a different mad genius, one who had tried to kill him.  _Excellent Watson, that's using your head_ , he thought bitterly. Instead he put his hand on the wall behind Jim's head, pressed his body in and cupped the man through his underwear. He formed his mouth against Moriarty and kissed him deeply, rubbing him roughly against his palm. Jim all but melted against him, hands clutching his jacket to keep him close.

"Come on pet, are we just going to tease each other all day or are we actually going to play?" Jim asked staring at him with his cold, calculating eyes burning with lust.

John reached up and tweaked one of Jim's nipples through his shirt, making him buck against John in surprise. "I'll fuck you when I'm good and ready." John replied, attaching himself to Moriarty's neck and sucking his pale skin hard. Moriarty's hands were back in his hair, trying to pull him off but he simply bit down harder and slammed his body against Jim's, crushing him against the wall.

"Johnny." Moriarty groaned, rolling his hips so their erections slid against each other again, even if it was through layers of fabric. "Come on already, fuck me."

"Fine." John grumbled, dislodging from Jim's neck. He undid his own jeans, pushing them down with his pants to free his erection. Then he gripped Jim's shoulders and forced him down until he was kneeling in front of him.

"I thought you were going to fuck me." Jim pouted, gazing up at John.

"Do you have lubricant because I certainly don't?"

"No."

"Then you better get my cock nice and wet or you get nothing." John snapped, fisting his hand into Jim's hair and shoving him towards John's prick. Jim grinned at him for a moment and then moved closer, licking the underside of John's cock starting at the base. He was going slowly, so slowly that John wondered if he was ever going to reach the tip.

Jim did the same with the sides and the top, going tantalizingly slow and John was biting on his lips to keep from making too much noise. He was shivering in anticipation and just wanted mouth surrounding his cock. He rolled his hips forward to communicate what he wanted. Jim kept teasing him with his tongue, swirling it around the head of his cock but not taking it into his mouth. John was growling in frustration and was ready to pull Moriarty up and just fuck him when finally Jim took him into his mouth, sucking hard on the end of his cock while his vision went blurry.

He worked John's prick just as slowly, keeping his eyes fixated on John's, which was both unnerving and unbelievably hot. His long pulls had just the right hint of teeth, his tongue continued working against the underside, Jim's nails digging into the backs of his thighs.

"Get off." John snarled when he was much too close to coming. Jim was smiling triumphantly as he rose to his feet. John pulled down Jim's jeans and underwear enough that his ass was bare and his cock was out. He hoisted Jim up against the wall and the criminal seemed to get the idea. He wrapped his legs around John's middle, throwing one arm around John's neck the other hand holding on to a brick that was jutting out over his head.

John didn't bother being nice, he figured Moriarty didn't really deserve it. Instead he felt his cock pressed against Jim's entrance and shoved himself in with one go. Jim cried out in a mix of pleasure-pain and clung to John a bit tighter. John rammed into him relentlessly as Jim gasped, pinned against the wall with nowhere to go and no other option than to take John's cock as fast and as hard as John wanted.

This didn't seem to deter Jim at all. He tilted his hips up so John would hit his prostate. John wasn't surprised Moriarty liked it a bit rough - not that he'd put much thought into how the Consulting Criminal liked to take it up the arse -although he was shocked with how much he was enjoying it. He had always considered himself a gentle and considerate lover. He'd never fucked anyone like this before. He was drunk on the power of it and the sight of Moriarty somewhat helpless above him, needing his cock and taking what John gave him without complaint.

Moriarty was so tight and John was slamming into him so fast that he knew this wouldn't last long. Then again they were in a dirty alley where anyone could walk by and see them. He didn't really want to extend the process. Jim was making all kinds of noise that was certain to attract attention if they didn't finish this soon.

John lifted Jim's shirt to reveal one of his tiny pink nipples. John sucked it into his mouth and bit at it. Jim seemed overly sensitive there because he jumped from the sensation. John continued to suck on it, eliciting a loud moan. Moriarty's cock was trapped between them and so far neither of them had paid it any attention. Jim couldn't let go of the wall or John without risking a fall and John couldn't let go without dropping him. That's why it came as quite a shock when Moriarty threw his head back and came, spilling himself all over John's shirt.

Moriarty's body clenched around John's cock as he continued to thrust into him. He was so close and Jim was so tight and hot, the pressure on his cock almost unbearable. Moriarty looked ready to drop so it was good that it didn't take John long to finish. With a few final thrusts, he came, biting down on the nipple still in his mouth and making Moriarty shriek in pain.

John rode out the end of his orgasm, emptying himself inside the criminal mastermind. When he was finished, he slowly dropped Jim down and leaned against him to make sure he didn't collapse but also to prop himself up. For a moment they panted into to each other's ears, trying to get their breath back.

John broke away first, pulled up his trousers and fastened them quickly. He looked around for a moment but it seemed that no one had caught them, which he was thankful for. He looked down at the sticky mess of Moriarty's come all over him and sighed. He slipped out of his jacket, pulled off his jumper, walked over and tossed it into the skip behind the pub. He put his jacket back on and shivered from the loss of a layer. Jim was still leaning against the wall, looking somewhat dazed. John bit his lip to keep from laughing. He'd never for the life of him thought he'd see the most dangerous man in London looking so thoroughly fucked. "Well, thanks for that." John shrugged, not sure what to do now. He gave Moriarty a quick kiss on the lips before shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and heading home.

XXXX

Jim, unable to remain on his feet, slid down the wall and sat on the floor. He hissed in pain as he put pressure on his slightly worse for wear hole. He raked his hand through his hair, trying to gain some composure. What the fuck had that been? It was like getting caught in a John Watson tornado and Jim could only hold on and ride it out.

Jim could feel John's come leaking out of his hole and Christ his cock was still out. It took a few tries but he finally got to his feet, pulling up his jeans and closing them. He leaned against the wall, his legs shaking beneath him. Well, wasn't John Watson just full of surprises? It was no wonder Sherlock liked having him around. When Jim had finally caught his breath and was able to move, he left the alley and called a car to come pick him up.

The moment he arrived home, he went and hacked into the pentagon to see what the silly Americans were up to. It was hardly a distraction and images of John Watson, just bare enough to fuck Jim senseless kept dancing into his head. He messed up a secret project just for fun and then retired to his room. He stripped naked in front of his full-length mirror and inspected the damage.

The first thing he noticed was the large purple mark on his neck. He tilted his head back and ran his fingers over it, remembering the heat of John's mouth against his skin. He could still taste John on his tongue, the mixture of beer, sweat, precome and something that was just John's natural taste. On continued inspection, his hair was messily tousled and his lips were still red. He had scratch marks on his back from where the bricks had dug into his skin. There was some dried semen on the back of his thigh from where more had spilled out of his hole. He'd have to take a shower and clean himself up.

As he glanced at the debauched mess of a man, there seemed to be nothing left of the hardened criminal Moriarty, there was just Jim who liked it rough and dirty in alleyways. For some reason, he found himself liking this version. He was calmer than he had been in months and he knew he'd finally get a good night's sleep. He grinned at his reflection before turning away and heading towards the shower. He was focused on one very clear goal as the steaming water poured over his abused body; he needed John Watson to fuck him again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have discovered (thanks to Tumblr) that British people do not actually use Laundrettes but I like the setting of this chapter too much to change it to somewhere else. I'm afraid you're just going to have to do a suspension of disbelief for this chapter.

Things at home hadn't changed much between Sherlock and John. Sherlock was just the same as ever: leaving experiments in the kitchen, sulking when he was bored, playing violin at three in the morning and rushing off on cases like a child at Christmas. In fact the only thing remotely different was John. He couldn't look at Sherlock without feeling guilty about what he'd done. He could only thank God that Sherlock had no idea about John shagging Moriarty and he would never find out either.

John was so ashamed of what had happened in that alley. He wished he had some sort of excuse but he hadn't even been drunk. It had been his first pint of the night when he had clapped eyes on Moriarty. He was simply going to plead temporary insanity and a case of depression. He wanted to blame Sherlock, and on some level he did, even though he knew it was extremely unfair of him. But if Sherlock had simply wanted John the way John wanted Sherlock, they could have been home shagging each other and the thing with Moriarty never would have happened. Yet he knew it was his fault for expecting the detective to be in love with him. There'd been no evidence of it and John had kissed him anyway. Sherlock wasn't able to give anything else and John should have known that.

He now spent more time out of the flat when Sherlock was in it. He was removing himself from temptation and the pain of watching something he couldn't have. Instead he took to long walks around the park or getting more hours at the Surgery. It was the best he could do until his retched feeling for Sherlock went away. If only he could make himself stop feeling, the way Sherlock seemed to, everything would be much easier.

"Sherlock, I'm off to the laundrette." John called out, slipping on his jacket by the front door.

There was no answer and for a moment John wondered if Sherlock had heard him. He was about to go and see when Sherlock emerged from his room with a bag. He handed it to John, shoving it into his arms and then retreating to the couch. "That's all the things that need washing, thanks John." Sherlock said sprawling himself onto the couch.

John looked down at the bag in his hands and back at his flatmate. Sometimes he really wondered how he had ever managed to develop feelings for the man that weren't extreme hatred. "Wash your own bloody clothes." John said dropping the bag to the floor in defiance.

"You're going anyways, there's no point in making two trips." Sherlock shrugged, grabbing his laptop and positioning it on his stomach, already having moved on from the conversation.

John sighed in resignation and snatched up the bag, getting his own while he was at it. Sherlock wouldn't do his own laundry anyway and it would just continue to fester and rot until John finally gave in and did it. The only clean things Sherlock seemed to have that weren't washed at the hands of John were his suits, which he had sent out to be dry-cleaned. One of these days John was going to come home to Sherlock wearing nothing but his bed sheet, having run out of clean things.

John was thankful for the mindless task of doing laundry. It gave him a reason to be out of the flat and was something he could do without focusing on it. He was separating the lights from the darks, trying not to think about the fact that he was mixing his clothes with Sherlock's and there was underwear from both of them in there. Why had he agreed to this? He must have been a glutton for punishment or something. It wasn't so bad when he washed their things at home, using Mrs. Hudson's washing machine. But it was broken, forcing him to do it in public and it was a bit humiliating. 

He couldn't stop thinking about Moriarty and how the hell that had happened. He had no idea who had kissed who first, it was mostly a sort of blur, or maybe he was simply trying to supress the memories of that night. For all he knew they had leaned in at the same time. He remembered going over to Moriarty to see why the criminal was there, make sure he wasn't doing something terrible that John would need to stop. But when he was sitting next to Jim at the bar in his regular clothes that made him look so different, John had been unable to speak a word. They'd stared at each other in silence for a long stretch of time until one or both of them broke it. When they had finally started talking, at had been surprisingly easy. There had been a friendly game of darts and some playful banter and somehow that had concluded with them fucking in an alley. 

John knew that if he hadn't been in such a fragile state from Sherlock's rejection, it never would have happened. He never would have let things get that far. At least he told himself that to try and feel better about it. He couldn't believe it had actually happened. It wasn't like him at all. He hated Moriarty and yet he'd enjoyed himself. 

"Seriously?" A voice said standing directly behind John, making him jump. Moriarty stepped to the side and stood next to him, surveying the pile of clothes in front of him. He slipped a finger in, prodding at them and lifting out a pair of red silk boxers that were definitely not John's. They were dangling from Jim's finger as he studied them. "He's got you washing his dirty underwear?"

"I was washing mine anyway." John snapped, snatching the underwear away and throwing them back into the pile.

Moriarty grinned, turning so his back was leaning against the table and staring at John. "There's a word for people like you, what is it?"

John ignored him, pursing his lips together and continuing sorting the clothes in front of him.

"Oh, it's on the tip of my tongue." Jim strained to remember, being over dramatic about it. He snapped his fingers as if it might help. "Whipped! That's it, you're whipped."

"Shut up." John said turning a bright red color. "I am not whipped."

Moriarty moved a bit closer, his lips achingly close to John's ear. "Would you like to be? I have one at home."

John swallowed and moved away. "What are you doing here Moriarty?"

"Call me Jim."

"Why are you here?"

"I think I'm ready for round two Doctor." Jim answered suggestively. He reached up and ran his fingers through John's hair, making him shiver but not in the way John wanted. He was supposed to be revolted, not excited. He grabbed Moriarty by the wrist and shoved his hand away.

"Knock it off." John said with his jaw clenched.

"Come on Johnny, now's not the time to play coy." Jim said, moving his body in between John and the table before wrapping his arms around John's neck.

"Don't call me Johnny." He spat back, trying to pull away from the man's grip but Jim just held on tighter.

"You didn't seem to mind when I was moaning it as your buggered my arse." Moriarty pointed out, smirking again.  _God I just want to kiss that expression off his face. No smack it off his face. No kissing the mad bomber John. Damn it!_

John scrubbed his hand over his face, annoyed with himself. "Do you think you could keep your voice down?" He whispered harshly, trying again to remove Jim's thin arms from around his neck. Jim was dressed down again, in jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt that showed off a sliver of pale skin on his chest. John did his best not to stare at it.

"Why suddenly so shy Doctor? You didn't mind fucking me in a public place but now you're blushing at the mere mention of sex?" Jim asked, looking slightly baffled at John's behavior as if embarrassment was such a foreign concept.

"Look, can you just piss off? I'm not shagging you." John said with conviction. He was not going to make that mistake again. He ducked under Moriarty's arms and started gathering up the clothes. He didn't care if the nearest laundrette was fifteen blocks away, he was not going to stay here.

"Oh Johnny, Johnny, Johnny." Moriarty shook his head, grabbing John by the arm and hauling him into the corner where they were hidden from view by the line of the large dryers. John's back was up against the wall and Jim had him trapped in with their bodies pressed flush against each other's. "It's useless denying me because I always get what I want and right now, I want you. It's also incredibly stupid of you to deny yourself when we both know you want me too."

  
"I really don't." John stared back at Jim with determination. He was not going to cave on this. He wasn't.

"We both know you enjoyed yourself the other night, more than you thought possible." Jim leaned in and nipped at the fleshy part of John's ear, sucking at it. "Don't pretend you haven't thought about shoving me up against one of these dryers and fucking me roughly."

John didn't dignify that with a response, especially because if he hadn't thought about it before, he was certainly thinking about it now. Jim's fingers were in John's hair, stroking the back of his head in a way that was rather nice.

"Or you could fuck me right here, let the sound of the machines drown out our moans."

"I'm not doing it, no." John shook his head, already feeling like he'd lost but trying desperately to stop this before it got out of control, before he got out of control.

"Take what you want Doctor, I won't mind." Jim coaxed him seductively, pushing his thigh between John's legs and pressing it against the erection John hadn't wanted but was unable to stop. Jim grinned triumphantly, the smug bastard. "We both know what you want and I'm offering it to you. You crave me, there's no point in refuting it, like a vampire craves blood. Take it John, it's yours."  
John felt as if he had been hypnotized. Without thinking about it, he crushed his lips against Jim's. Jim sucked John's tongue into his mouth, teasing it with his own and John moaned. He was achingly hard already, straining against his jeans, rutting against Moriarty's thigh. Jim laughed, pulling away from the kiss. "Someone's eager."

"Fuck you." He bit back, feeling embarrassed by his actions and covering it with anger.

"That's the plan Johnny." Jim smiled and produced a small tube of lubricant from his pocket.

"Came prepared this time, did we?" John laughed, taking the tube from the mad genius. Before Jim could answer, they were kissing again; filthy, hot kisses as John worked open Moriarty's trousers only to find he wasn't wearing underwear. Prepared indeed.

He stroked Jim languidly, taking his time and enjoying Jim's hot, thick cock in his hand. He hadn't had the time to enjoy it the first time. Jim shoved him away slightly. "No time for foreplay Doctor, remember where we are."

"Christ." John swore under his breath, finally realizing they were in a very public building surrounded by people, not a lot of people but enough.

"Hurry up." Jim snapped, wrenching John jeans open and shoving his underwear away. He snatched the lube away and squeezed some into his hand. John looked around to see if anyone was going to disturb them but it looked like everyone was going about their business, none the wiser of what was happening in the corner, blocked from view by the oversized dryers.

He was pulled back to the current proceedings when Jim's hands were applying the gel to his cock. It was cold and John hissed but recovered quickly as Jim stroked him. John bit back a moan and grabbed Jim by the shoulders, turning him to face the dryers. He pulled Jim's jeans down enough to reveal his arse.

He trailed two fingers down his cock, coating them in the lube. Then he slowly began inserting them into Jim. "No time for that." Moriarty whispered harshly. "I want your cock now!"

"Hush." John replied, crooking his finger and brushing it against Jim's prostate, making him groan.

"You weren't so delicate with me last time." Moriarty hissed over his shoulder.

"Well, that was last time. Don't worry, we'll get to the good stuff soon." John said, caressing that gland inside Jim slowly, remembering how Moriarty had teased him in the alley with his tongue.

Moriarty let out a frustrated huff of breath but didn't say anything more. John continued to play with his prostate until Jim was whimpering, grinding his hips back, trying to get more. It was something to see, watching Moriarty try to impale himself on John's fingers.

"Come on, come on." Jim cried out impatiently.

"If you don't be quiet, I'm just going to have you suck me off and then leave." John threatened, covering Jim's mouth with his free hand while his other fingers continued to work Moriarty open. "Now, are you going to behave?"

Moriarty narrowed his eyes at John but nodded his head slightly.

"Good, now, we are going to do this my way and I am going to finger fuck you as long as I please. You'll get my cock when I decide, not before, understand?"

Another nod as John began scissoring his fingers. Jim moaned, the sound muffled by John's hand and then the consulting Criminal bit down hard, his sharp teeth breaking the skin on John's hand. "Fuck!" John shouted in pain. He went to pull his hand away but Moriarty grabbed his wrist, keeping him still as Jim licked away the small trail of blood.

"Two can play that game Doctor." Jim's eyes flashed with malice.

"You sick fuck." John shook his head, pulling his hand away just after Jim pressed his lips to the bite mark.

"Come on Johnny, my patience is wearing thin." Jim replied, wiggling his arse a bit.

"Fine." John said starting to remove his fingers. He pulled them almost all the way out and then shoved them roughly back in, making Jim buck in surprise. He slipped his fingers out for real, lined himself up and buried himself in with one sharp thrust. Moriarty arched his back and let out a low, guttural moan.

He gripped Moriarty's hips and began slamming into him roughly, doing what they both wanted. He sucked at the back of Jim's neck to stifle his moans but there was little he could do about Moriarty. He wasn't going to put his hand over his mouth again and risk another bite.

He snapped his hips back and forth as quickly as possible, the sound of skin slapping against skin seemed so loud in John's ears. Still it was nothing compared to Jim who apparently had no qualms about being as loud as possible. He was panting and gasping and moaning and when he wasn't doing that he was talking.

"Yes, Johnny, yes. Just like that. Fuck me hard. Take it. Take what's yours. Yes, yes, yes." Jim groaned out and John bit down on his neck trying to get him to shut up. It wasn't that he minded what Jim was saying, in fact everything tiny sound and every word went right to his cock. The problem was he didn't want to be discovered and then arrested for public indecency.

Christ Jim was tight and it felt so much better this time, John slipping in and out easily, ramming into him over and over. He was holding Jim's hips hard enough to leave bruises but he couldn't bring himself to care. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this so much. It was wrong, so wrong and filthy and John was loving it.

Jim's jeans had fallen down around his ankles from John's thrusting into him so hard. John was getting an amazing rush from the idea that any moment someone might see them, John still almost fully clothed while Jim was half-naked in front of them. It was stupid; one of the dumbest things John had ever done so why was he getting off on it? Why was the thrill of it making him harder than he ever remembered being in his life?

John reached up and put his hand down the V in Jim's t-shirt, pinching his nipple. Jim bucked against him and John loved how sensitive the criminal mastermind was there. Jim was meeting his thrusts, grinding his hips back in time to John pounding in. John was close, that familiar feeling coiling low in his belly. He moved his lips to a new spot, closer to Jim's jawline and sucked, ready to muffle his cry when he came.

"Come on Johnny, come inside me. Fucking fill me with your hot come. I want it. Fucking do it. COME!" Jim hollered and John felt his body spasm as his orgasm overtook him. He emptied himself out into Jim and then reached around, grabbing Jim's cock and with a few pulls he brought Moriarty to completion, his come shooting all over the side of the dryer.

"Christ Jim." John said resting his chin on Jim's shoulder, staring at the ejaculate running down the machine.

John stepped away, slipping his cock out, hearing Moriarty hiss at the loss, and reached down to pull up his pants and trousers, tucking himself back in. Now that the heat of the moment was over, he felt decidedly ashamed and angry at himself for letting this happen again. Jim turned around and pulled his jeans up, his dark eyes vacant. John supposed it was better than the cold harshness they usually had. He wiped his brow where sweat had collected and turned to go back to his clothes. Jim's hand shot out and pulled him back.

"What, no kiss goodbye this time?" Jim asked, licking his lips as if in anticipation of lips pressed to his.

"Fuck you." John snapped, trying to pull away.

"Just did that Johnny but if you want to go again, I'll probably be up for it in a few minutes." Jim replied with a wink.

"Fuck. Off." John said, shaking with rage. He couldn't believe it had happened again. What did Moriarty want from him anyway?

"Not without a kiss."

"Quit being a prick." John said trying to tug his hand away from Jim's grip. Jim used his momentum against him and pushed him up against the wall, practically wrapping himself around John. One hand was pushed up into his hair, the other stroking behind his ear. Jim had one leg wrapped around John so their bodies were pressed against each other, their noses touching.

"Well Doctor…?"

John sighed heavily and turned his head to give Moriarty a quick kiss. It was chaste, nothing more than a peck but it was all John was willing to give. He unwrapped himself from Moriarty's limbs and tried to leave again. Jim reached out and curled his fingers around John's throat, shoving him back.

"I think we can do better than that." Moriarty said slipping his tongue into John's mouth. Their tongues tangled together as John melted into the kiss. He ran his fingers through Jim's hair, tugging him closer even though they were as close as physically possible.

They twisted their faces, changing the angle of the kiss, shoving their tongues back and forth into each other's mouth's. One would suck, then the other, harder as they swapped spit. John finally had to break away to catch his breath and Jim smirked at him.

"Till next time, Johnny boy." Jim said giving his nose a quick nip.

"What, there's no next time." John called after him.

"We'll see." Was all Jim replied in a singsong way, raising his hand up and twiddling his fingers in a goodbye before he was gone. John groaned, knocking his head against the wall. This was not going to happen again. It shouldn't have even happened this time or the time before. He needed to get some control over himself. This was getting dangerous and reckless and stupid. No, this was definitely the end of it. He refused to be sucked in by James Moriarty again.


	3. Chapter 3

Jim was having a fit, which his employees knew meant they should leave him the fuck alone. Moran had hidden himself away somewhere, knowing he would take the brunt of Jim's rage if he were around. Jim had no time for hide and seek even though hitting someone was exactly what he needed. He settled instead for breaking all the dishes in the kitchen, smashing them to pieces. Still, it wasn't enough and he was seething.

He needed something bigger to smash, to ruin. Maybe a country would be big enough. How long would it take him to start a civil war in Egypt? Maybe he would ruin Canada's health care system to make himself feel better. In the end he settled for starting a fire on his bed and watching as the four poster burned.

This wasn't supposed to happen. This was NOT part of the plan. Fucking John the second time was supposed to be a way to get it out of his system, not make him want the doctor more. What the bloody hell was going on with him? He enjoyed intellectual pursuits and destruction. Sex hardly ever factored into it. Now he was horny all the time and kept having wet dreams involving the good Doctor. He never had been like this, not even when he was a teenager and everyone else seemed to be overrun with hormones.

It had to be because he had yet to see John naked, he reasoned, yes of course. It was like receiving a gift a Christmas and only opening it part way. He needed to see John naked and then he could move on. He needed to undress to Doctor and touch every inch of his skin and then he'd stop feeling like this. Then he could concentrate on work.

Moran rushed in with the fire extinguisher, yelling at Jim for being so careless. Jim wasn't listening, he was already on his way to his study, turning on all his computers. He hacked into the CCTV footage and had each camera playing on a different computer. He started with the one closest to Baker street and worked his was around the city, looking for any sign of his little army doctor.

"Come on pet, where are you keeping yourself?" Jim mumbled to himself. Jim often forgot that other people had real jobs that they went to every day, with set schedules and lunch breaks. That's why it took him longer than it should have to realize it was midday on a Wednesday and that John would be at the surgery. He rolled his chair over to the camera and waited.

"Sebastian!" Jim hollered. Seb entered Jim's office covered in soot and coughing.

"Yes Jim?"

"Go pick up John and take him to the safe house on Holland Rd. I'll be there shortly." Jim ordered him, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist.

"Jim are you sure that's –"

"Just do it." Jim snarled and Seb left without another word. Jim rubbed his hands over his eyes and then up into his hair. He just needed a quick fuck and then he'd be able to think. John might be cranky after being kidnapped so it might take some extra convincing. After all, John had nearly turned him down at the Laundrette.

He turned off the computer screens, careful not to leave any trace that he'd been hacking into the system. He walked back into his room, coughing on the remaining fumes of the fire. His bed was pretty much ruined, having burnt down to almost nothing. Oh well, he'd just stay at the safe house after he was done with John. The sheets would smell like the army doctor and sex. Jim shivered just thinking about it. Maybe he'd get John to stay with him. They could fuck each other for hours until their bodies gave out. Yes, he quite liked the idea of that.

Jim went into Sebastian's room, looking for the cigarettes he knew Moran kept hidden. Jim found them in a matter of minutes, stuffed into a pair of socks. Jim almost never smoked but he was on edge and his whole body was humming with anticipation. He shook one from the pack, slipping it between his lips and lit it, the familiar burning feeling in his throat as heavy smoke filled his lungs. He exhaled slowly, already feeling the buzz of the nicotine.

He felt almost giddy with excitement. It was like being a kid at Christmas and he had a shiny new toy to play with. God, what a toy John was. Jim still got shivers when he recalled their fuck in the alley. He'd never thought he'd see Watson in such a state. The doctor seemed so moral with his high principals. He never could have predicted John would be so susceptible to this kind of thing.

Jim wasn't used to wanting someone in this way. He'd wanted things before but he'd never wanted a person. And he did want, God how he wanted. He was going to strip John bare and unravel him until there was nothing left. He could almost feel John's lips on his skin.

He crushed the cigarette out on Moran's dresser and took the pack with him. He took a quick shower, scrubbing his body down till it was almost raw. Moriarty was meticulous about cleanliness when it suited him. Sometimes he sat around in the same pajamas for three days if he was busy working on a problem.

He stood naked in front of his closet, trying to figure out what to wear. This might take slightly more seduction on his part so it was important that he look good. Normally he would wear one of his expensive suits but John seemed to prefer it when Jim dressed down. He obviously didn't like reminding that Jim was the one who had strapped him to a bomb and threatened to kill him. The less he looked like Moriarty, the more likely it was that John would fuck him.

He slipped on a pair of jeans, disregarding underwear since it would just get in the way. He slipped into a thin white t-shirt and finished it off with a light purple cardigan. It was as unassuming an outfit as he could think of. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn't believe how unlike himself he looked. Jim, the one who liked quick romps in alleyways with army doctors was back, Moriarty being caged away inside.

He called the car to come pick him up, slipping the cigarettes and lighter into his pocket. He'd waited long enough. It was time to go see John.

XXXX

John hadn't even taken two steps out of the surgery when he felt something pierce his skin. He touched where he had been hit, pulling it from his skin. He had enough time to identify it as a tranquillizer dart before everything went dark.

John awoke in a very large bed, fully clothed, thank god. Someone had put a pillow under his head but he was over the duvet. He wondered who had bothered to drug him and then lay him out so carefully for when he awoke. He looked around the room and got his answer when he saw Jim sitting by the window, curled up into himself and slowly smoking a cigarette. The window was slightly ajar and Jim exhaled the smoke through it. John bit back a groan, partly from the groggy feeling from being drugged, partly because he was with Jim and finally because Jim smoking was oddly sensual when it shouldn't be.

"Finally." Jim said glancing over at John. He smiled in a way that was slightly creepy before lifting the cigarette between his teeth and sucking on it. "You've been out for almost an hour. If you didn't wake up soon I was going to get started without you."

"Get started on what exactly?" John asked as he watched Jim chuck his cigarette out the window.

"Surely we've done this enough times for to you to know the answer to that." Jim replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Was the kidnapping really necessary?"

"I would have sent you an invitation if I thought for one second you'd actually accept it." Jim joked, walking over to the bed. He crawled over to John, staring at him the whole time with those giant brown eyes. John only realized his lips had parted of their own volition when he felt Jim's tongue roving around his mouth, claiming it.

John melted into the pillows, wrapping his arms around Jim and bringing him down with him. "I wouldn't be so sure about that." John answered, already half hard. He used to think he had some resemblance of self-control. Now he wasn't so sure. Or maybe that was just the affect Jim had on him, although the fact that the previous two times had been mind-blowingly good was definitely a factor.

Jim's lips were more insistent when they pressed against John's the second time. Jim's tongue was practically fucking John's mouth, leaving him gasping, his fingers in Jim's hair tugging at it slightly. He was fully hard now and couldn't stop his hips from bucking up against Jim's, making them both moan.

John rolled them over so he was on top and started to lift his shirt. Jim slapped his hands away and growled. "My present."

"I'm sorry?" John asked, slightly bemused.

"Only I get to unwrap it, Johnny." Jim answered without explaining at all, lifting the hem of John's shirt and slowly bringing it up and over his head. John was kneeling on the bed between Jim's legs. Jim looked up at him hungrily, his hands slowly tracing over John's skin. He moved them up John's chest, over his broad shoulders and down his arms. John shivered from the light touches and the coldness of Jim's hands.

Jim lowered his mouth to John's stomach and began sucking the skin while his hands trailed a new way over John's body. He moved them up his arms, down his back with fingernails scrapping just slightly, up his chest and into his hair. "Jim." He groaned, needing to free his erection that was trapped uncomfortably in his trousers.

"Patience Johnny." Jim responded, pushing John back so he was sitting on his heels. Jim scooted closer and took the left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. John tried to move his hands down to undo his trousers but Jim just batted his hands away, latching onto the nipple and sucking it hard.

"Jim!" John cried out, bucking against the other man.

Jim moved over to the other nipple, biting down right next to it. Then he bit the other side and John groaned, waiting for what he knew was inevitable. But when Jim finally moved to the nipple, he simply flicked his tongue against it lightly. "God, what are you doing to me?" John asked, scrubbing his hand over his face. This was a really bad idea and he knew it, yet he couldn't bring himself to voice any of his concerns.

Jim just smiled in reply, slipping his fingers through John's belt loops to pull him back onto his knees. He undid John's buckle quickly, tugging John's trousers down to his knees so he was just in his boxers. Jim mouthed him through his underwear, licking his erection through the fabric, making it rub against him.

"Fuck…" John exhaled slowly, his fingers twisting into Jim's hair.

Precome was leaking out John's prick, mixing with Jim's saliva and making his damp shorts cling to him. When Jim was done teasing him, he pulled John's underwear down very slowly, John's erection finally getting free.

"Lie down on your back." Jim ordered and John didn't even think before following them. He got onto his back, his trousers slipping down to his ankles. He needed to be touched soon and was on the verge of begging for it. Jim pulled the rest of John's clothes off, discarding them on the floor. Jim was still fully clothed and John went to start undressing him, just to get his hands slapped away again. "Not yet Johnny, this is my turn. You can have a go next."

  
John stared at him in confusion until Jim kissed him deeply, assaulting his mouth again. John wrapped his legs around Jim and kissed him back just as vigorously. Jim broke the kiss, trailing down John's neck, torso, leaving love bites in his wake. John's hips were pushing up, knowing where Jim was headed.

Jim licked a stripe up John's cock, from root to tip while his hands moved up and down John's thighs. John bent his legs and spread them, giving Jim room. Jim flicked his tongue against the tip a few times. "Jim." John gasped, hands fisting into the sheets, his cock twitching in interest.

"Get back on your knees." Jim instructed, moving back to let John have room to move. Jim pushed John's legs further apart before lying down on his back and slithering under John's spread legs until his head was just under his genitals. Jim lifted his face and began tonguing the underside of John's sack. He lifted them slightly with his tongue before moving down and trailing across John's perineum, back and forth in slow, maddening strokes.

"Christ." John swore under his breath and lowered his hand to grasp his prick. Jim instantly stopped and lowered his head away from John. "You touch yourself again and I'll bite you." Jim threatened. John released his grip on himself and tried to think of the best place to put his hands so he wouldn't be tempted to touch himself again. He decided to cross his arms over his chest, holding his hands down with his arms.

Jim brought his head up and took one of John's balls into his mouth, sucking at it. John desperately needed to grip something but he was too far away from the headboard and there was nothing else. "Jim please." John begged, not caring if he sounded pathetic. He needed more and if he didn't get touched soon, he was going to go insane.

Jim ignored him and took the other ball into his mouth, moving his tongue against it. John wondered if finally touching himself would be worth getting bitten. He had no idea where he'd be bitten though and wasn't sure he wanted to risk it. Instead he started begging uncontrollably, feeling desperately needy, his cock throbbing and turning purple. Jim started lapping at the perineum again and then moved his tongue up and down the cleft of John's arse. His tongue flicked against John's entrance, making him gasp.

"Jim, please, just let me touch myself." John requested, feeling ready to collapse or sob from the pain.

Jim finally moved away, slipping out from under John's legs. He moved back against the headboard, settling in and beckoning John forward. John complied with some difficulty, moving so his cock was right in front of Jim's mouth. Jim licked his lips before swallowing John's cock down, taking it fully into his mouth with one go. John's hips began canting, pushing himself deeper into Jim's mouth, needing a release. Jim put his hands on John's arse, guiding him deeper into his mouth until John was pounding against his throat.

If it was painful or uncomfortable, Jim didn't show it. He simply took John willingly down his throat and even began humming around his cock, eyes flicking upwards to watch John's reaction. "Oh Jesus Fucking Christ." John swore, one hand grabbing the headboard, the other fisting into Jim's hair. He was getting close, so ready to come. Jim was applying the perfect amount of suction and adding a hint of teeth randomly to keep John guessing. He was teetering on the edge, ready to release when Jim pulled off.

"Fuck." John groaned, dropping his head onto his arm. "Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck."

"Lie down against the pillows." Jim commanded and John did so willingly, hoping the change in position meant that Jim was finally going to finish him.

John spread his legs and Moriarty smiled at him, stretching his red and swollen lips. Jim lowered himself between John's legs and took him back into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. "Yes." John hissed, gripping Jim's hair again but letting him set the pace as he started working his cock.

Jim's head bobbed between John's legs and soon John was close again. He felt his orgasm coiling in his lower abdomen and was grateful that Jim didn't pull off again. He was just about to tip over the edge when Jim pinched his bum hard, bringing him back from the brink. John groaned in frustration, thumping his head against the headboard. He wondered if Jim was ever going to let him come.

John's hips started thrusting up, pushing himself deeper into Jim's mouth. He barely got two thrusts in before Jim relaxed his mouth so there was no friction. John cried out in anger, desperately trying to get something but his dick fell from loose lips and he gave up. Once he was still, Jim started working him again, slowly with his tongue massaging the underside. John put his fingers into his mouth and sucked at them, covering them in spit. He tried to be sneaky about it but of course Jim noticed John trying to stick his fingers in his own arse. He had hoped stimulating his prostate could get him off no matter what Jim did.

Jim started working him faster and John forgot all about finger fucking himself. His orgasm was building again. "Yes, yes, finally. Oh god." He said breathlessly, writhing against the sheets. He was just about to come when Jim reached up and twisted his nipple hard. John shouted in pain and was denied his orgasm yet again. "You fucking tease." He yelled.

Jim laughed around John's cock, pulling off so just the head was still in his mouth and sucking it hard. John's vision went white and he whimpered in pain. "Jim, please. I'll do anything. Just let me come."

Jim seemed to find this acceptable and started working John's prick in earnest, sucking him in long pulls. When John finally came, it was hard and a scream tore from his throat. John collapsed boneless and exhausted, ready to pass out. Jim crawled up his body and it took everything in John not to push him away out of spite. Jim kissed him deeply, both of their mouths open and John only realized why when he spluttered and almost choked on his own come. Jim hadn't swallowed and instead pushed the ejaculate into John's mouth using his tongue. John finally recovered and swallowed, really wanting to hit Jim repeatedly.

"What the fuck Jim?" John shouted angrily.

"You tasted so good, I thought I should share." Jim shrugged, attaching his lips to John's neck and sucking the skin.

"You're an utter bastard." John spat, wanting nothing more than to sleep. His whole body was limp.

"We're not done yet, Doctor." Jim murmured against his skin.

"I can't do anything more, I'm tired." John whined, shutting his eyes and trying to sleep.

"You said you'd do anything." Jim reminded him and John almost kicked himself for being so stupid.

"Fine, what do you want?" John snapped, hoping it involved as little movement as possible. Maybe he could just lie on his stomach and let Jim fuck him. He really wouldn't mind at this point.

Jim smirked and slowly started getting undressed, pulling off his cardigan to reveal the very tight white shirt underneath. John licked his lips and watched as more and more of the evil genius was exposed. He realized he'd never seen Jim fully naked and the thought made his cock twitch even in his exhausted state.

Even though he could hardly move, he couldn't help getting involved. He moved closer and ran his hands down Jim's pale chest before undoing his jeans and letting them fall. Jim wasn't wearing any underwear, which wasn't totally surprising. He got his first good look at Jim's cock and felt a rush at the idea of having Jim inside him. He took it in hand, feeling the weight and the throbbing of it before beginning to stroke. Jim tried to pull away but John grabbed his arm to still him.

"My turn, remember?" John said stroking Jim's length slowly while staring up at him. Their eyes met and they both leaned forward for a kiss. John moved his hand to the nape of Jim's neck and stroked it in time with his hand on Jim's prick, both hands moving slowly. "Tell me what you want." John requested, moving his lips across Jim's jaw and down to his neck.

"I want to fuck you." Jim sighed as John rubbed his thumb against the tip of Jim's cock.

"How do you want me?"

"I want you to ride me."

"Jim, I'm tired."

"Anything." Jim reminded him in a singsong way and John rolled his eyes. Jim lied down on the bed, kicking off the remainder of his clothes. "Come on."

"Aren't you going to prepare me?" John asked, horrified at the idea of Jim entering him without lube or anything.

"Prepare yourself." Jim said throwing the lubricant stashed under one of the pillows at John.

"Are you always this lazy?" John asked slicking up his fingers.

"I just worked your cock for a good twenty minutes. I'm tired too." Jim shot back.

"We could always just cuddle." John said and Jim snorted in response. "You could have been done sooner if you'd just let me come." John pointed out, twisting his body so he could reach behind himself and insert the two fingers. He massaged his puckered hole for a minute until it fluttered open and he could easily slip the two fingers in. He moaned and dropped his head down onto the bed, his arse sticking up in the air as he worked himself open.

"I liked watching you beg." Jim admitted, his cock growing harder at the sight of John fucking himself on his fingers.

"Fuck you." John said, grinding his hips down to impale himself on his digits.

"Stay away from your prostate." Jim ordered and John did his best to open himself up without brushing against that bump.

Jim started stroking himself lazily, both of them watching the other in anticipation. "Aren't you done yet?" Jim growled impatiently.

"Almost." John replied shakily as he slipped a third finger in, working it in time with the others.

"Hurry up."

"Hold on." John said in irritation as he slipped his fingers in and out of himself. He was drawing it out to make Jim suffer but soon he grew impatient as well and slipping his fingers out, whimpering at the loss.

"Come on, come on." Jim hissed, reaching out and grabbing John's arm to pull him closer.

John let out an exasperated sigh but moved so he was straddling Jim's hips. He quickly applied some lube to Jim's cock, gripped the base and sunk down slowly. "Oh God." John moaned.

"Yes." Jim hissed.

"I don't know if I can do this." John admitted, his oversensitive body was crying out in agony as he was completely filled.

"Move." Jim ordered and John rolled his eyes. He gave himself a moment to adjust before gripping the headboard and pushing himself up and down on Jim's prick. As Jim's cock brushed against his prostate, it sent sparks of pain and arousal shooting through John's body. He dropped his head to Jim's shoulder as he continued fucking himself on Jim's cock.

"Fuck you're tight." Jim exclaimed, his fingers digging into John's thighs and helping him move.

Jim started thrusting his hips as John ground down onto him, plunging himself somehow deeper inside john. "Fuck, stop." John cried out, throwing his head back. "It's too much."

"You're fine." Jim assured him, gripping his hips tighter and raising his knees so he could ram into John more efficiently.

"I can't." John whimpered, trying to move his body faster to get Jim off quickly. His muscles were screaming in agony and he felt he might pass out.

"I'm close, just keep going." Jim insisted and John groaned in pain.

He moved his hands down to Jim's chest and rubbed his nipples as he rode him hard and fast. Jim was thrashing underneath him, his sensitive nipples unable to take so much stimulation. He bucked his hips up, thrusting into John erratically. John reached one hand behind him and began kneading Jim's sack, the other still playing with his nipples.

"Fuck that's good." Jim moaned. "So hot and tight. I knew you would be."

"Jim." John cried out as Jim thrust hard against his prostate, causing John to dry orgasm. His body clenched and it sent Jim rippling through his orgasm, coming hard inside John. He collapsed onto Jim, rolling off him so the dick pulled out of his hole.

John buried his face in a pillow and shut his eyes, ready to sleep for weeks. Jim took hardly any time to recover and decided to sit on John's back with his legs on either side of his middle. "Fuck off." John growled, not sure what Jim was up to but he was not ready for anything.

"I can't leave you in this state, now can I?" Jim said softly as his hands moved up to John's shoulders and started massaging them.

"Ohhh." John moaned, melting into the mattress as Jim's thumbs moved his circles against his shoulder, kneading the muscles. "I don't think I've ever gotten a post-coital massage before."

"You must have had some inconsiderate lovers." Jim said snidely.

"Yeah well, none of them fucked and teased me so much that I couldn't move." John countered before moaning again as Jim's hands moved lower, skillfully unknotting his back.

"Not even Sherlock?" Jim asked sounding surprised.

"You're kidding right?" John said turning his head to the side and feeling all the tension leave his body. "He can't even be bothered to do his own laundry, why would he ever think he would think to give someone a massage."

"I meant the fucking you so hard you couldn't move bit." Jim corrected and John tensed up again.

"Um, no. Things aren't like that between Sherlock and I."

"But not by choice." Jim replied knowingly.

"Not by my choice, no." John had no idea why he was confessing all this but he was becoming so relaxed as Jim worked him over.

"He doesn't know what he's missing." Jim said lowering his lips to John's skin and biting it playfully.

"Thanks, I guess."

"I am capable of giving out compliments John." Jim said annoyed.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it because I will not be up for a shag again until maybe next month." John groaned as Jim's hands and lips seemed to be everywhere at once. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it.

"That's no good, I have plans." Jim said kissing the small of John's back, making John arch up in surprise.

"What plans?"

"How do you feel about the opera?"

"Uh, I don't have a strong opinion either way about it. Indifference, I suppose."

"Have you ever actually been to an opera or have you just heard some?" Jim clarified.

"Just heard it."

"Then you do not have an informed opinion and I must correct this." Jim said with finality.

"You're going to take me to the opera?" John asked incredulously. He felt himself smiling and hid his face in the pillow so Jim wouldn't see.

"Don't flatter yourself, I take everyone I fuck to the opera." Jim whispered into his ear, making John shiver. He came out of hiding and rolled onto his back so they were facing each other.

"Do you now?" John asked, skeptical. "Because it sounds to me like a date."

"I don't date." Jim snarled in disgust.

"I'm not going unless you ask me out properly." John teased, poking Jim in the stomach.

"Piss off." Jim replied, shoving John's hand away.

John laughed and sat up quickly, shoving Jim down onto his back and following him so John was on top of him. He manhandled him onto his stomach and held his arms behind his back so he couldn't move. "Ask me nicely."

"If you don't let me up right now, I'm going to –"

"Wow, you're really bad at this." John chuckled, leaning over Jim so his mouth was at Jim's ear. "Jim, just ask me."

Jim thrashed, trying to get out of John's grasp but the doctor held on tight. Jim finally gave up. "Willyougototheoperawithme?" Jim mumbled into the duvet.

"What was that?" John asked, nibbling at Jim's ear.

"You heard me perfectly fine!" Jim growled.

"Alright, alright." John relented, letting go of Jim's hands. Jim tried to sit up but John threw his leg over Jim's back and straddled him, moving his hands slowly up and down Jim's back. He started massaging Jim's shoulders in the same way that had been done to him earlier. Jim sighed contentedly with his eyes fluttering closed. "The answer's yes, by the way."

"Hmm?" Jim asked, too relaxed to actually form a question.

"To the opera. I'll be your date."

Jim opened his mouth to say something and John preemptively struck, biting down hard on Jim's shoulder. He didn't break the skin but there were some definite teeth marks.

"Calm down, I'm just teasing." John went back to massaging, leaning down to kiss the nape of Jim's neck.

Jim huffed out a breath in response and moaned when John started working a knot between his shoulder blades.

"So has anyone ever done this for you before?" John asked conversationally.

"I get a massage weekly."

"No, I mean because they want to, not because they were paid to." John corrected.

"Oh," Jim said, contemplating it for a minute. "Then no."

They were quiet for a moment, the only sound Jim's sighs as John's strong hands worked away the tension in his body. Every time John added his lips, kissing, licking or nibbling the Consulting Criminal's back, Jim seemed startled by the affection. "You're lonely, aren't you?" John might not have been as smart as Sherlock or Jim, but he was able to figure that much out.

"I don't get lonely." Jim spat in response.

"It's not a weakness Jim, everyone gets lonely. It just makes you human."

Jim didn't answer and John bent over, placing soft kisses to the nape of Jim's neck. Jim went rigid, as if he wasn't sure what to do or how to react. The fact that Jim was so confused and thrown by being touched gently or tenderly made John incredibly sad and for some reason protective.

"I get lonely too." John confessed softly.

"How? You're almost always surrounded by people."

John ignored the fact that Jim had been spying on him and decided to keep the conversation going. "You can be lonely in a crowd. Sometimes more so than when you're alone."

"Explain."

"Well, when you're alone you can tell yourself you chose to be that way. But in a crowd where no one is even making the effort to speak to you, that can be worse. You're with people but you're not  _with_ them. I don't know if I'm explaining it right."

"No, I understand. I have a hard time believing someone as  _nice"_ Jim said the word as if it were an insult. "As you having trouble talking to people."

"I'm not always nice, I can be selfish."

Jim snorted. "When?"

"I'm being selfish right now."

"This is you being selfish?" Jim smirked.

"Not the backrub idiot. Being here, with you. It's selfish of me." John moved his hands lower and began rolling his knuckles into Jim's skin to work it deeper.

"But I kidnapped you."

"Yes, well I haven't exactly tried to escape, have I? And the first time, in the pub, I hadn't planned on shagging anyone that night. I was there to drink away the pain of Sherlock rejecting me and then I saw you and in a way I slept with you because I knew how much it would hurt him if he found out. Still, I needed to feel wanted by someone, no matter for how brief a time. You were just a familiar face and a warm body to me and I took what I needed from you."

"I wasn't complaining."

"Then I had sex with you again even though I knew it was wrong simply because I wanted it. I'm pretty fucked up, shagging the man who strapped me to a bomb."

"Not at all doctor."

John barked out a laugh. "Forgive me if I don't take your opinion of what's normal into consideration."

"Your attraction to me isn't really that surprising."

"Really? Because it was to me."

"You've been told before that you crave danger. It's why you moved in with Sherlock in the first place. It's why you went to Afghanistan. It also explains your attraction to me. I'm dangerous and unpredictable. I kill people simply because I feel like it. I provide what you need."

"And here I thought it was just about getting off."

"That too."

"So why are you here with me? Last I checked your obsession was with Sherlock, not me."

"I doubt blushing virgin Sherlock would be able to get me off. But to answer your question, I don't know. You're interesting. Challenging in ways others are not."

"Challenging? I thought I gave it up pretty easily." John interjected.

Jim ignored him and pressed on. "You're a healer who kills. A short, unimposing man who wears jumpers when he shoots cabbies. A man of action who is intelligent enough to keep up with Sherlock and myself. Someone who is as comfortable in London rain as he is in the desert sun. Like I said, interesting."

"Wow, that's…surprising. I'm not used to being seen. Nobody ever really notices me, especially not when I'm around Sherlock."

"I did." Jim said flipping around onto his back so they could look at each other.

"Now who's the one being nice?" John asked, biting back a smile.

"Oh don't flatter yourself, I notice everyone."

"And how many of them do you kidnap?" John asked, kissing Jim's neck.

"Quite a lot, actually."

"And bring to your home?" Lips pressed to Jim's collarbone.

"Significantly less."

"And shag?" A kiss on the cheek.

"Less still."

"And give backrubs to?" Finally John's lips on Jim's briefly before they were gone.

"The number has dwindled substantially."

"Down to just one?" John couldn't help it, he smiled.

"I'm not nice." Jim scowled.

"It's alright." John bent down and kissed him slowly and sweetly, their tongues gliding together unhurriedly. "Your secret's safe with me."

XXXX

They continued kissing, never stopping even as John got the lube, slicked up his fingers and started opening Jim up. When one of them needed to breathe, the other would move to a different part of their body. John's fingers scissored inside him, brushing and caressing Jim's prostate and making him whimper with need. Jim thought John might tease him endlessly but once he was stretched open enough, John pulled his fingers out and immediately replaced them with his cock.

Their lips found each other again as John eased into him slowly, pushing in without haste. Jim brought his knees up towards his chest, hugging them to John's side as they rocked together, their bodies sliding together and apart. Each thrust went deep, hitting Jim's sweet spot dead on and leaving him gasping.

"Jim." The doctor moaned against his neck as he buried himself inside him again. "Touch yourself."  
Jim didn't even think to argue, slipping his hand down his body and stroking himself. John was watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as Jim touched himself. "John." He seemed unable to do more than whisper.

"Just like that." John said softly. "Perfect."  
Their lips pressed together and Jim felt like he was drowning. His orgasm hit him quite suddenly and any noise he might have made was stifled by John's lips against his. He spilled his release between them, John broke the kiss to watch as Jim came all over his stomach, his body shuddering beneath John.

"Oh God Jim." John groaned as he toppled over the edge. He had barely finished emptying himself into Jim when the other man moved his feet onto John's chest and kicked him away roughly.

John was startled as he crashed onto the floor. Jim jumped off the bed as John scrambled to his feet. For a moment they started at each other, both panting and angry. John was staring at him and Jim hated it. It was like John could see everything, as if Jim were made of glass. He wanted to tear John's eyes out so he'd stop. Jim felt utterly exposed and he didn't like it.

He lunged at John and managed to get one misaimed punch in before John was restraining him. He backed Jim up against the wall, pining his arms to the side of his head. Jim snarled and thrashed, trying to hurt John again. Trying to stop him from seeing.

"What the fuck Jim?" John asked in bewilderment.

"Who told you that you could fuck me like that?" Jim shouted, ready to kill someone.

"You seemed to be enjoying it."

"We're here to fuck John, not to share our feelings." Jim said trying to get out of John's grip to no avail.

"Stop, Jim, stop." John ordered, his voice austere.

"Don't tell me what to do. Don't you fucking dare!" Jim screamed, his eyes blazing with fury.

"Jim. Calm down."

"No. Get the fuck off me."

"Not until I'm sure you're not going to try anything."

Jim narrowed his eyes and scowled, not saying anything.

"Jim." John said gently. "If you want me to leave, just say so. If you want me to stay, tell me."

Jim took a few deep breaths through his nose and tried to decide what he wanted. He wanted John to stop looking at him but he didn't want John to leave. He'd had plans for them, for how they were going to spend their time together. John was continually fucking them all up and it was unbelievably frustrating. He couldn't even let Jim be angry when things went wrong, damn him.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat before tilting his head up and pressing a quick kiss to John's lips. "Stay." He requested, his voice barely above a whisper.

And John did.


	4. Chapter 4

"Come on John, we have a case." Sherlock shouted through the door as he knocked on it loudly.

John fixed his tie before going over to the door and opening it. He'd rather hoped to avoid Sherlock that evening but it seemed that wasn't going to happen. Sherlock looked him over, frowning. "That's not a very practical outfit for solving a murder."

"That's because I'm not solving a murder." John replied, going over to his dresser and opening his sock drawer.

"But we have a case, didn't you hear me?" Sherlock asked in confusion.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry but I've got a date. You're going to have to manage without me." John apologized as he picked a pair of socks that actually matched and sat down on the bed to put them on. He felt bad about leaving Sherlock on his own but he was looking forward to tonight, as strange a notion as that was. Also it was a bit difficult being around Sherlock after his harsh rejection. Still, they hadn't been on a case together since that night and John admittedly missed it.

"But Anderson is working forensics, I need an assistant."

"Well tough, I'm not canceling."

"Fine." Sherlock snapped, his frown deepening. "Where are you taking her? Somewhere nice going by your outfit."

"No." John shook his head. "I'm not telling you anything."

"What, why not?" Sherlock asked, affronted.

"Because the last time you crashed my date and I ended up getting kidnapped. So I'm not giving you even the slightest clue of where I'm going and who I'm going with."

John was glad he had an excuse to not tell Sherlock anything. The last thing he needed was for Sherlock to get him talking and for John to spill that he was going to the opera with Jim. He pulled on his socks, deliberately avoiding Sherlock's gaze. John could only hope that Sherlock's case was interesting enough to steal his focus off John.

It felt weird having actual date plans with Moriarty. But after their night together, John had been looking forward to it, never forgetting to remind himself that Jim was a psychotic, evil mastermind that could go crazy at any second. Honestly, if John hadn't seen something human in Jim that night, he wouldn't be going on this date. But he had, in fact he'd seen more of the Consulting Criminal than he had ever expected to. He'd actually seen Jim looking vulnerable, which seemed like a privilege. John figured most people that saw Jim in such a state ended up dead and for a moment John had thought things might go that way.

In a strange way, they needed each other. John wasn't sure why and it was daunting and made him worry about himself. He'd never expected to find solace in such an unlikely place. Maybe it was because Jim was so intense and he dominated John's mind so fully that he had no room to think about anything else. Jim was, in essence, the perfect distraction. John still wasn't quite sure what Jim needed him for other than orgasms but John was willing to be used to such an end as long as it meant he couldn't feel the sting of Sherlock's rejection.

He was still scared to death that Sherlock might discover how John had been spending his time as of late. He knew seeing Jim was like playing with fire, sooner of later he was going to get burned. It was either going to be by Sherlock finding out or by Jim's crazy behavior. This was probably the stupidest thing he'd ever done and yet he had no plans to stop.

John and Sherlock ended up leaving the flat at the same time, which was quite awkward. Sherlock kept glancing over at John and he knew Sherlock was trying to deduce where he was going and who with. He was probably just fueling Sherlock's curiosity by hiding things but he also didn't want to reveal too much. It was best to just keep quiet and soon Sherlock would move on to something else.

"Well good night and good luck with your case."

"Luck has nothing to do with it but I appreciate the sentiment. Enjoy your date." Sherlock responded in a clipped manner.

"Thanks." John said ignoring Sherlock's tone and stepping off the front stoop.

"Oh and John?"

He turned back to his flat-mate. "Yes?"

"You look nice." Sherlock said with a small smile.

"Oh, um, thanks." John stammered, laughing nervously. "You be careful, alright?"

"Always John." Sherlock nodded and even though John didn't believe him, he had more pressing things on his mind. He could only hope Sherlock wouldn't get himself killed but he was just going to a crime scene. Surely he couldn't get into too much trouble.

John walked three blocks up and got into the non-descriptive black car idling by the curb, exactly where Jim had said it would be. He was a little surprised when he sat in the back seat and there was no mad genius in the car waiting for him. The partition was up so John couldn't even see who was driving and therefore couldn't ask them what was going on. But as the car pulled away from the curb, John had no choice but to settle in and wait.

XXXX

"No, that won't do at all." Jim said the moment John walked into his bedroom.

"What, what's wrong?" John asked. Jim had barely glanced at him but was already displeased about something.

"Your clothes. Honestly, we're going to the opera, not your sister's wedding." Jim scoffed at John's black tux.

"This was the nicest thing I owned."

"I don't doubt it." Jim said with a smirk. "Good thing I predicted this."

He went over to his closet and pulled out a box that said Hugo Boss. John didn't even have to ask what it was. "You bought me a suit?"

"There's no way I'm taking you out looking like that." Jim gestured to John's outfit in disgust.

"You've never complained about my clothes before."

"That's because I was usually ripping them off you. Now hurry up and strip."

John stood still, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance. He knew this was a cheap tux that he'd bought second hand just to have something to wear to Harry's wedding. It was eerie that Jim knew that was what this tux had been for. Jim started tapping his foot impatiently.

"Come, come dear, I haven't got all day."

"I –"

"Oh for fuck's sake." Jim sighed in exasperation and crossed the room. His hands worked quickly, divesting John of his cheap suit, looking at the fabric as if it were offensive, until he was in just his underwear.

"Here." Jim opened the box and thrust the white dress shirt at John, which he begrudgingly took.

"Should I even ask how you could possibly know my size?"

"Please." Jim waved it off as if it were obvious.

John got dressed quickly while Jim stood in his underwear in front of his closet. John couldn't help staring as Jim's long, slender fingers brushed over his impressive collection of suits. Jim obviously felt John's gaze on him because without even turning around he spoke. "Like what you see?" John could almost hear him smug smile.

John blushed a deep red and turned away. Jim laughed. "Hard to believe you can still get embarrassed even after all the nasty little things we've done to each other."

"Fuck you." John shot back, stabbing his arms through the arms of the vest.

"Sorry, no time for that darling." Jim countered, picking a suit from the many and laying it down gingerly on his bed. It was a black one button Armani suit made of wool and satin so it shined. John had no doubt Jim would look amazing in it. It was vastly different from the three piece charcoal gray suit Jim had picked out for him. The trousers fit perfectly that John didn't really need a belt but wore one anyway. The jacket was perfect, snug but not too tight that it restricted his movements.

"There." Jim said when they were both dressed. He ran his hands over John's shoulders, smoothing out the line of the suit. "Much better. It suits you."

"You have some kind of weird suit fetish, don't you?" John asked, eyes flickering pointedly towards the closet. Jim shrugged but made no further comment.

"Ready?" Jim asked

"I suppose so." John replied, having no idea what a night out with Moriarty at the opera was going to entail. But then John Watson had never feared the unknown and he wasn't about to start now.

XXXX

Moriarty had bought the entire box so they'd have it to themselves. There were six seats and he'd purchased all of them. They took their seats as the lights flickered to communicate that the show was about to begin. John quickly flipped through his program before the lights went out.

John settled into his seat, preparing himself for hours of opera. He'd never been much of a fan but he was open to the idea, ready to be impressed. John was used to melding himself to fit in with what the person he was with wanted him to be. He was fine with making small concessions. And though the idea of doing so for Moriarty was a baffling one, it didn't stop John from wanting to try. Besides, what harm could it do, sitting through one opera? People did it all the time.

The show began and while John had heard of The Magic Flute before, he actually had no idea what it was about. The whole thing was played in German, which he didn't know a lick of and he had never been good at languages anyway.

"Am I meant to know what the bloody hell is going on?" John whispered, leaning toward Moriarty.

Jim simply smirked, shaking his head in amusement and John turned back, trying to pay attention. He thought he was just starting to grasp some of it, there was a guy and a Queen of some sort and three women who had saved him and a man who was a liar. It was all a bit muddled but at least the music was beautiful. The performers were rather impressive.

He felt Jim's long, thin fingers splayed on his knee and he turned to look at the Consulting Criminal in confusion. But Jim wasn't looking at him, in fact he was looking past him at the stage. John shrugged and turned his attention in that direction as well. It was soon interrupted when the hand started moving, making it's way up John's leg. Again, Jim was pointedly not looking at John, hand now on his upper thigh but with an innocent looking smile on his lips.

He was trying to pay attention to the opera but Jim's thumb started making little circles, brushing uncomfortably close to his groin. Jim's whole body moved closer, attaching his lips to John's neck and sucking. "I thought it was important to you that I watch this."

"Hmm." Jim replied indifferently, sucking the skin harder and tracing his fingers over John's crotch, making his dick stir in his trousers.

"Jim, I can't pay attention when you're doing that." John whispered harshly.

"Just keep watching and don't mind me." Jim murmured against his throat.

"It's a bit distracting." John snarled, trying to keep his eyes fixated on the stage but Jim was rubbing John's cock through his trousers, coaxing it to hardness.

"So is you in that suit." Jim countered, unzipping John's fly and it sounded embarrassingly loud. He looked around, hoping to god no one heard that. There was an old woman in the mezzanine, staring at them.

"Jim, we have an audience."

"They're not here for us, they're watching the opera."

"No, I mean there's an old woman staring."

"Oh don't mind her, the old bat probably never had a real orgasm in her life." Jim pulled away and did an obscene gesture at the old woman, who baulked in surprise and turned away in disgust.

"Jim." John said warningly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Jim asked, running his thumb in circles over the head of John's prick.

"I would have preferred if you hadn't started." John shot back with less bite than he had intended.

Jim took that as a no and pulled John out of his underwear, revealing his cock to the air. John hissed as the cold hit his cock and felt so utterly exposed. It only lasted a second as Jim lowered his head, placing sucking kissing along John's shaft.

"Christ." John breathed, dropping his head against his seat, all thoughts of paying attention to the opera gone.

Wetness and heat surrounded his cock as Jim swallowed him down. He worked him in steady, long pulls and John put one hand on the back of Jim's head, bobbing up and down. He put his other hand in his mouth and bit down on his fist to keep from making a sound. Jim was humming along with the music and John could feel the vibration of it against his cock.

He felt himself getting close, his balls still stuck in his trousers tightening. He gripped Jim's hair to communicate that he was about to orgasm, biting down harder on his fist to muffle his shout as he came. Jim pulled off, swallowing before moving back down to lick John clean of anything he missed. He tucked John back in his trousers, giving it a friendly pat. His lips were red and swollen, covered in spit and come. Jim licked his lips before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

John slumped down in his seat, raising his hand to his face to shield himself from everyone, hiding away in embarrassment. He tried to refocus on the opera but now he was completely lost. Luckily the song finished and the curtain came down, signaling the end of act one. The lights came up and John felt like everyone was staring at him.

"Come on Johhny, let's get a drink."

John wordlessly allowed Moriarty to lead him away, guiding him by the elbow. They went out into the lobby and ran almost directly into the old woman who had been staring at them. John's cheeks burned with embarrassment and he could hardly look at her.

"You two ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Carrying on your depraved homosexual acts and in public no less."

Jim's eyes narrowed at her, looking very much like he was about to kill her. John grabbed his arm as a warning and Jim's face changed, lips curling into a smirk. "Does my breath smell like come?" he asked.

"Oh god." John shook his head in disbelief.

"I beg your pardon?" The old woman said, blinking at them in confusion.

"My breath. Does it smell like come? Semen? Ejaculate? I just finished sucking this gorgeous thing off and it would be terribly rude of me to go around talking to people with my breath smelling like his come. I should probably go get a drink but we'll talk later, yeah?"

The women's jaw dropped and she gaped at them as Jim put a possessive arm around John's middle and led him away to the bar. He ordered John a pint while he got himself a whiskey sour. John leaned against the bar, feeling slightly out of it. "Did you seriously just ask an eighty year old woman if your breath smelled like come?"

"I did indeed Johnny." Jim snarled, eyes locating the old woman and looking at her with a slightly murderous expression.

"You're thinking about killing her, aren't you?" John sighed, taking a very large gulp of his pint.

"In so many ways." Jim ran his finger along his lower lip as he contemplated it.

"Jim, don't."

"I could steal all her money or make it look like she's a vicious blackmailer and have her sent to prison."

"No." John said sternly.

"Can I at least kill her dog?"

"Why, what did the dog do to you?"

"Fine." Jim pouted, sipping at his drink, eyes still shooting daggers at the old woman.

"Thank you." John said visibly relaxing He was not up for a night of trying to keep Jim from killing someone. Still, he couldn't really blame him. The words "depraved homosexual acts" were rolling around in his head, making him angry. "You really want to make her mad?" he asked Jim, smiling conspiratorially.

"Always." Jim shared in his wicked grin as John curled his fingers around the nape of the consulting criminal's neck and pulled him in. They kissed each other with fervor, trying to suck each other's faces off. John began rutting against Jim and making indecent moans. He glanced over in time to see the old woman's disgusted expression before she stomped off, as much as an old woman could. John pulled away and collapsed in a fit of giggles, holding onto Jim as he shook from laughter.

"This night is just ridiculous." John said wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye from laughing so hard.

"And it's not even close to being over." Jim whispered seductively against John's ear, lacing their fingers together and dragging him back to their seats. The lights were just starting to flicker and John's trousers were already undone with Jim working him open with two spit slick fingers. At least this time they were slightly less in the open, hidden behind the wall sectioning off their box. The only thing John could see was the stage and he was fairly certain no one could see him but honestly he was beyond caring at that point.

"Put your hand over my mouth." John said as the lights went out and everyone started to get quiet.

"What?" Moriarty asked, distracted by moving his fingers in and out of John's entrance.

"Put your…hand…over my…mouth." John said between heavy breaths.

Jim didn't need to be told again. He curled his fingers over John's mouth while the other undid his own zip and freed his erection. John had no idea what Jim was doing, keeping his eyes trained on the stage, but he heard Jim spit into his unused hand. Soon after John felt something blunt against his opening, pushing past the ring of muscles. He cried out but it was muffled by the combination of Moriarty's hand over his mouth and the singing on stage.

Jim fucked him slow, taking his time while also doing a running commentary about what was happening on stage. It felt like hours that Jim had been easing into him and pulling back out at his unhurried pace. John was whimpering against Jim's hand, wanting to beg him to go hard, deeper, faster but he couldn't. His cock was heavy, throbbing and leaking precome, just aching to be touched.

Jim finally sped up; putting his hand out so each thrust pushed John's cock into Jim's awaiting fist. John was gripping the back of the seat in front of him, trying to keep them from crashing to the ground. Jim had nothing to brace himself on so it was up to John to keep them upright.

Jim's hand left John's cock just as he was nearing the brink and John let out a disgruntled noise. But the hand returned quickly, this time holding a handkerchief. Jim worked him in time with his thrusts, the cloth adding a tantalizing amount of friction as Jim rubbed him roughly. John couldn't hold on any longer and came, the sound stifled by Jim's hand as the other one wiped him clean with the handkerchief.

John dropped his chin to his chest, his legs ready to give out. Jim removed his hand from John's mouth and held onto his hips, pounding into him quickly and deeply. John bit back a moan. "Watch Johnny." Jim commanded and John lifted his gaze to the stage. "The lover's are being tested. Tamino is not allowed to speak to Pamina so she believes he no longer loves her. She's going to try and kill herself."

John watched the stage, as riveted as possible considering he was being buggered in the arse. Jim finally came, just as Pamina pulled out a knife to kill herself, biting down on the nape of John's neck to keep from making too much noise. He collapsed against John and then slowly eased himself out. They both lazily redid their trousers before dropping into the nearest seats available.

He watched the rest of the opera uninterrupted and when the final curtain fell, John rose to his feet, clapping enthusiastically. He'd more or less understood what had happened in the rest of the story and even if some parts confused him, it was still well done. Jim was grinning triumphantly, pleased with John's response.

"I didn't have a completely awful time." John said when they were back in Moriarty's car.

"High praise indeed." Moriarty replied, looking out the window.

"So how was your first official date?" John teased.

"It wasn't a date." Jim shot back immediately.

"We went to the opera together, you bought me a drink and we shagged."

"We didn't have dinner." Moriarty pointed out.

"Oh and that's the qualifying factor, is it?" John asked with a derisive snort. "Alright, so as long as we never have dinner, we're not dating. Okay."

"Precisely." Moriarty said nodding. "Just sex."

"And opera, apparently. Will it happen again?"

"The sex or the opera?" Jim asked, finally turning to face John.

"Any of it."

"It's possible." Jim answered noncommittally.

XXXX

They stopped off at Jim's safehouse so John could change out of his suit and back into his cheap tux. He tried to leave the suit but Jim wouldn't hear of it. So when John was finally dropped off three blocks away from Baker street, he had to carry the box with his new suit in it back home. He was really hoping Sherlock wouldn't be there so he wouldn't have to explain. He wasn't up to being interrogated. He just wanted to go to sleep.

Alas, Sherlock was home but at least he was in his room. John quietly crept up the stairs, hoping he would stay where he was. But again, John wasn't that lucky. He had just put the box on his bed and started undoing his tie when Sherlock burst into his room without knocking.

"Are you having sex with my brother?" Sherlock asked accusingly.

"What? Are you serious?"

"Very." Sherlock said staring him down.

"No, god no. Sex with Mycroft, just no." John shook his head, slightly horrified at the mere thought of it.

"It was a logical conclusion. You got in a dark, expensive car with tinted windows. Whoever you went out with has expensive taste or at least were less than thrilled with your second-hand tux because they bought you a replacement suit, a designer suit no less."

"Wait, how do you know what kind of car I got into?"

"I followed you of course."

"Of course."

"Someone with his standards who picks people up in black cars. It has the smell of Mycroft all over it."

"Well it's not Mycroft."

"Then who is it?"

"Why do you care?" John evaded the question, turning it around on Sherlock.

"I don't." Sherlock sniffed, standing up a bit straighter.

"Good, then stay out of it. I don't actually need your approval of the people I date." John said, slipping off his jacket and loosening his collar. Sherlock's eyes landed on the love-bite on John's neck. "Sherlock, leave it alone." John said sternly.

"As long as it's not Mycroft." Sherlock mumbled.

"It's not." John promised, wondering if that was better or worse than the truth. Both men had been described as Sherlock's arch-nemesis. John wondered how Sherlock would react to knowing that John was sleeping with Moriarty. Not well, he decided and that was why he was never going to find out.

"Good." Sherlock said leaving the room and closing the door behind him. John flopped down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering when his life went so dreadfully wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

John never let himself forget just who he was sleeping with, as if he ever could. He didn't have faces but he had voices, voices of people Moriarty had terrified and strapped in semtex. The list always concluded with himself and Sherlock, forcing himself to go over everything that had happened at the pool that night. Right up to the moment Moriarty decided to let them go, disappearing with a snap of his fingers.

He did this to remind himself how stupid and reckless he was being. He was always on edge now, waiting for the penny to drop and for Sherlock to find out. But as guilty as he felt about it , he still had no plans to stop and that was probably the worst part about it.

And even in the rare moments when he could forget exactly who Moriarty was, Jim was always quick to remind him. He'd never given Jim his number that didn't stop him from getting a text during work that could only be from the Consulting Criminal.

_Come over after work and bring your dogtags with you –M_

John turned his phone over and over in his hand, waiting for his next patient. He had no idea what his dogtags had to do with anything but he'd already decided to dive head first into this crazy thing with Moriarty. It seemed stupid to back out now. Besides, anything to keep from going home. Sherlock didn't have a case and was even more manic than usual. This would be a welcome distraction.

When John arrived home from work to get the dogtags, Sherlock was locked away in his room. John took a very brief shower, scrubbing all the important bits so he didn't smell too much like a hospital. He quietly made his way up to his room, grabbing the tags and slipping them around his neck. He hid them under his shirt and made his way back downstairs. He was on the last step when Sherlock's bedroom door opened. John winced. He'd been hoping to make it out of the flat without talking.

"Off again?" Sherlock asked conversationally.

"Uh, yeah."

"Seems to be getting serious." Sherlock walked into view, carrying his laptop with him.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Assuming that you're still seeing the same person - who you've decided to keep a mystery for whatever reason – this will be the fifth time you're seeing them. That's doesn't constitute as serious?"

"It's just… complicated." John said, thinking that was somewhat of an understatement. But since the alternative was letting Sherlock know that he was currently shagging a known psychopath who had tried to kill them both, this seemed like the safer option. "It's mostly just casual sex right now."

"You don't do that."

"Do what?"

"One night stands. Since we've lived together you've had a string of girlfriends and none of them were just casual."

"Maybe I was in the mood for a change. Besides, most people do one night stands at one point or another."

"I don't."

"Ok, most normal people."

Sherlock's nose crinkled as he narrowed his eyes, fixated on John's chest. "You're wearing your dogtags."

"So?"

"You haven't worn them since you returned home from the war. They've been in a lockbox you keep your gun in since you moved in. Why wear them now?"

"Because he asked me to."

"Why?"

"Not sure. I'll find out when I get there." John's phone buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket, making sure to keep the screen tilted away from Sherlock's view.

_I'm waiting – M._

"Look, I've got to go. Stop trying to deduce me."

"Why, I've got nothing better to do." Sherlock shrugged before moving over to the couch and flopping down onto it, placing the laptop on his chest.

"See you later?" John said with his hand on the door, ready to leave.

"Hmm." Sherlock said absentmindedly, distracted by whatever he was doing on the computer.

"Bye." John said awkwardly before closing the door.

John walked the usual three blocks and found the car waiting for him. Although he had a pretty good idea where Moriarty's safehouse was, it was obvious Jim was still being cautious. It seemed Jim still didn't really trust him – which was fine – John didn't trust him either. It could have been because of Sherlock, being careful that Sherlock didn't follow John and figure out where Moriarty was hiding.

Still, he had to known John would be careful. He didn't want Sherlock to know the truth about what was going on. In fact he was rather proud that he'd managed to keep it a secret for as long as he had. He'd presented Sherlock with a mystery, a puzzle by keeping the truth about his relationship hidden. Either Sherlock didn't care or was trying to be respectful of John's boundaries. John very much doubted it was the latter.

XXXX

Moriarty attacked him the moment he was through the door, crowding him up against it. "You're late." Jim said accusingly.

"I got here as quickly as I could."

Moriarty's gaze slid down John's neck, gazing at the hint of chain visible under his collar. His eyes moved lower still to where his shirt was bunched up from the tags. Jim licked his lips and began unbuttoning John's shirt until the tags were exposed. He gripped them tightly and used them to pull John close, their lips crashing together.

"So what are the tags for?" John asked when they finally broke the kiss.

"You'll see." Jim replied enigmatically. He led John towards the bedroom, keeping hold of the tags and walking backwards as they went.

When they reached the bedroom, Jim guided John so he was standing next to the bed and started attacking his clothes, tearing at them wildly. He yanked John's shirt over his head and tossed it away before starting on his belt. He didn't even bother pulling it from the loops, he just undid it and tugged the trousers down. When his jeans and pants were down by his ankles, Jim shoved him down onto the bed, clamoring on top of him. Jim was in nothing but his dressing gown, which he deposited on the floor quickly.

John was having trouble keeping up. He had barely touched Jim and yet that didn't seem to make much a difference to the Consulting Criminal. He stroked John until he was hard and then moved so he was straddling John's hips. With one hand, he grabbed the dogtags and held them tightly so they were cutting into the back of John's neck.

"What are you –"

"Shh." Jim put his finger against John's lips and John went crossed eyed for a moment while he stared at it. He raised his gaze to Moriary as the man trailed his hand down John's chest until he reached his cock. He gripped the base, positioned himself and ground down slowly.

"Holy fuck." John cried out, back arching up off the bed. Jim twisted the chain in his hand until it was encircling John's throat, pressing into his windpipe and cutting off his air. "Jim." He croaked out, unable to breathe.

"I've been thinking about this all day." Jim confessed as he began moving, holding onto the tags as he rode John. "I'm going to see if I can make you come before you pass out."

John opened his mouth to respond but he began feeling lightheaded. His eyes fluttered shut as he struggled to breathe. "Look at me." Jim commanded but John couldn't think, he could breathe. Everything was going fuzzy. "Look. At. Me." Jim said again, harsher, and John's eyes snapped open.

"Good boy." Jim said moving faster. John tried to thrust his hips up to make it go faster, to get off quicker. Jim moved his hand to John's lower abdomen to keep him still. He used his hand to push himself up and down, pulling at the chain and cutting it deeper into John's neck. John tried to cry out in pain but it was strangled in his throat. He attempted to push Jim away or pull him closer to give the chain some slack but Jim just pulled on it tighter.

"You have no idea how long I waited for this. Hours and hours just thinking. I prepared myself while I waited for you." John let out a tiny groan, the only noise possible as Jim talked, his mind filling of images of Jim pushing his fingers inside himself. The picture in his mind was so deliciously erotic that it made him harder.

Jim moved quicker still, bouncing up and down on John's cock. John's eyes rolled back in his head and he felt almost a giddy sensation filling him. If he'd been capable of such a thing he would have started laughing. He was getting close, his vision blurring. He wasn't sure if it was from the asphyxiation or from his orgasm. The next thing he knew everything went black.

John was brought back to consciousness by Moriarty smacking his face, not exactly hard, but not gentle either. John took a deep breath and instantly started coughing. He turned his face into the pillow and had a small fit as his lungs tried to settle. "Jesus fucking Christ." John said when he could finally speak. "What happened?"

"You fainted although you did manage to come first."

"Oh well that is good news." John replied dryly. He tried to sit up but Moriarty pressed him back down against the pillows.

"Rest for a moment my dear, it's my turn next and you better be ready for it."

John groaned, moving his hand up to feel where the chain had dug into his neck. He could feel the indents and wondered how long it would take for them to go away. His neck was sore and his head was still muddled but at least his breathing was back to normal. Jim had removed his shoes and his trousers from around his ankles while he was out. He had no idea how much time had passed between when he'd blacked out and when Jim had awoken him.

Jim began placing suck kissing against his stomach, his hands running along John's side, exploring his skin. He placed his hands on John's knees and kissed down his now flaccid penis. John groaned with sensitivity. "Turn over." Jim requested, helping John flip onto his stomach.

"Hmm." Jim hummed appreciatively, his hands sliding over John's buttocks. "You showered before you came here, which means I can do this."  
Jim used his thumbs to pull John's cheeks apart and lowered himself down. His tongue circled John's hole, teasing but not penetrating. "Oh God." John moaned, burying his face in his pillow. Jim flicked his tongue against John's pucker, dipping in just slightly. " _Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jim."_ John groaned out, pushing his hips back slightly to get more.

Jim moved lower, his tongue sliding down towards John's sack and back up. He moved up and down the perineum, tongue pressing hard against it, before making his way back up to John's opening. He lavished it with attention, taking his time. He sucked at it, causing John to arch up off the bed. "Buggering fuck." John shouted before dropping back down against the bed.

"I'd love to suck my come out of you one of these times." Jim said pulling away to bite down on one of John's arsecheeks.

"Bloody fucking hell Jim." John thought if Jim kept this up, he'd be hard again in no time.

"I think about it a lot when I'm bored." Jim admitted, kissing the small of John's back. "All the nasty little things I want to do to you. How I want to fuck you, how I want you to fuck me."

"Oh God, Jim."

"Do you think about me Johnny?" he asked, biting his way up John's back, following his spine up.

"Yes." John gasped and Jim bit down a bit harder right below the nape of John's neck.

"What do you think about me doing to you? What do you want to do to me in return?" John was speaking directly against John's ear, making him shiver from the sensation. "Tell me." Jim ordered, nipping at John's earlobe.

"You tie me up and blindfold me, make me suck you off without being able to see what I'm doing, just listening to your directions." John said as Jim began running the head of his cock against the cleft of John's arse.

"What else?"

"No, your turn." John said, swallowing hard, his cock twitching as he got his second wind.

"I'm going to do one better, I'm going to show you." Jim whispered before trailing his tongue back down John's back. "I'm just waiting for you to get hard again."

"Why?"

"Part of what I have planned." Jim told him before dropping his face back between John's cheeks and dripping his tongue into John's hole.

"Christ!" John exclaimed, fisting his hands in the sheets.

Jim's tongue worked past the ring of muscles, pushing it's way in. He pushed John's legs further apart and spread his cheeks to get deeper. His tongue probed in and out. "Oh god, Oh god Jim just fuck me already." John pleaded, rubbing his now half hard cock against the bed for some friction.

"Soon." Jim promised after he pulled away. "Over again."

John let himself be guided back on his back and watched as Jim lubed up his fingers. John put a pillow under his lower back, spreading his legs. His knees were bent, one down against the mattress, the other up. Jim gave John's cocks a few strokes before moving down. He cradled his sack, raising it slightly. "Fuck." John let out a shaky breath.

The fingers moved lower still until they were massaging John's entrance. They slipped in easily, working John open further than Jim's tongue had. Jim bent his head and took one of John's nipples into his mouth, sucking it hard. John moaned and rested his hand on the back of Jim's head, running his fingers through soft, dark hair.

Jim pulled his fingers out and pressed back in with three. John did sharp intake of breath and gripped Jim's hair tighter. Jim moved over to the other nipple as he ran his tongue over and around it before tugging it between his teeth. John made a keening noise as Jim crooked his fingers and brushed them over John's prostate.

"I love listening to the noises you make. It's a shame we have sex in public so often, you tend to hold back."

John's head was thrown back against the pillows, pushing his hips down to get more of those long, thin fingers. "Jim, please. I need it. Fuck me."

"Patience Johnny, patience." Jim said, his lips curling into a smile.

"Jim.' John begged as those three fingers teased his prostate. John was moving his hips frantically, trying to fuck himself on Jim's fingers.

John grabbed his face and pulled him in for a searing kiss. Jim bit down on John's lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Metallic taste filled John's mouth as Jim licked his way in between John's lips and their tongues tangled. Jim moved his free hand to John's prick, running a single finger up and down the shaft and then over the head, checking to see if he was hard yet.

"Oh God." John cried out, turning his head to break the kiss. "Fuck me. Come on, fuck me."

"Not yet." Jim said licking a stripe from John's collarbone up to behind his ear.

"You evil little fucker." John spat out in aggravation.

"It is what I do." Jim smirked before bending his head back down and sucking at John's neck.

John pushed Jim off him, throwing him onto the bed next to him and scrambling over him. He pinned Jim's hands over his head, crushing his body with his own. "I've had enough, you filthy little cock tease." John rolled his hips so their cocks slid together.

"Oh yes." Jim hissed. "I like that. Call me names. What else am I?"

"You're a dirty slag." John said rutting against him again.

"Yes, yes, yes, moremoremore." Jim said excitedly. John wasn't sure what he wanted more of, the name calling or their erections rubbing together so he continued both.

"How often do you think about my cock?" John asked, continuing their little game as he flicked his tongue across one of Jim's sensitive nipples.

"All the time." Jim confessed. "It's terribly distracting."

"You think about it when you should be making evil little plans, about how good it feels inside your greedy little hole."

"Yes, Johnny, yes." Jim moaned, bucking up against John.

"How good does it feel to have me hot and throbbing in your mouth? To taste me, have me come down your throat. "

"So good Johnny, don't stop."

"Now, either you're going to finally fuck me, like I know you've been aching to or I'm going to fuck you again you nasty little slut. I'll take you hard and rough and you'll love it." John moved so his lips were brushing against Jim's ear. "Whore." He whispered, making Jim shiver.

"Oh Johnny." Jim exclaimed with pleasure. He ran his foot up and down John's calf. "As much as I'd love that, I do still have plans."

"Right. Your bloody plans. Will we be getting to them soon or are you going to go back to be an naughty fucking tease?" John asked releasing his grip on Jim and rolling off him.

"No, we'll get to them now." Jim said standing and going over to the wall where there was a large sheet covering something. John hadn't paid it much attention considering Jim had been ravishing him since the moment he got in the bedroom. Jim grabbed the sheet and pulled it away with a dramatic flourish to reveal a large, full length mirror.

John slipped off the bed and joined Jim in front of it. "And what exactly are we doing with this?"

"I'm going to fuck you in front of it so I can see every bit of you." Jim answered, wrapping his arms around John's neck and pulling him close. "I want to be able to see you. Watch you come while still being able to look down and witness myself disappear inside you."

"Christ." John's knees went weak just thinking of it.

"I know, I'm brilliant." Jim complimented himself before pressing his lips to John's.

Jim pulled away to go back to the bed and fetch the lube. John looked at himself in the mirror and thought about what they were about to do. Would Jim have him on his hands and knees so John could watch Jim fuck him too? The idea was an appealing one.

"Brace yourself against it." Jim requested as he stood directly behind him, licking at his back.

John did as he was told, putting his hands up against the mirror so his arse was pushed out towards Jim. He licked his lips in anticipation as Jim applied the lubricant to his cock. "Perfect." Jim said softly as his hands came to rest on John's hips. He lined himself up and started to press in slowly. "Better than I imagined."

"Jim." John gasped, dropping his head back onto Jim's shoulder.

"No." Jim said harshly. "Watch. Keep your eyes on me."

Their eyes met through the mirror, locking on each other. Jim took his time, pulling out slightly and then thrusting in deeper. Jim dropped his gaze to watch what he was doing, watch as he disappeared deeper inside John. When he was buried balls deep inside him, they stared at each other again.

"Tell me how it feels. Describe it to me John." Jim ordered, keeping his eyes fixated on John's even as he lowered his lips to nibble at the back of John's shoulder.

"Full." John responded, wishing Jim would start moving. "So full. Of you."

"Like I'm possessing you?"

"Yes."

"It's as if I own you." Jim said moving his hands from John's hips to run them slowly over John's stomach. "Like you're mine."

"For now."

Something flashed across Jim's eyes and for the briefest moment he frowned. If John had blinked he would have missed it, the look was so fleeting but because he couldn't take his eyes off Jim, he'd seen it. "Yes, for now." Jim said easing almost all the way out before shoving back in with one sharp thrust, at the same time biting down on John's shoulder, making him howl in pain.

Jim continued like that, pulling out slowly and then thrusting back in hard. John's palms were beginning to sweat, making it difficult to keep his hands against the mirror. Jim's eyes were dark intense as he fucked John hard. John eyes were beginning to water from the strain of not blinking.

"Faster Jim, please." John remembered Jim saying he liked it when he begged. His hands were starting to slip down the mirror and he needed to come soon. Jim had been circling his hips until he found the perfect angle and now he was hitting that sweet spot dead on, cock brushing it over and over.

"Can you come just from my cock?" Jim asked breathlessly.

"Not sure. Possibly if you start going faster." To his surprise, Jim actually complied, gripping John's hips harder and pounding into him.

John could feel himself getting close but it wasn't enough. "No, I need you to touch me."

"Fine." Jim snarled, fisting his hand around John's cock and pumping him quickly.

"Yes, oh god yes." John moaned, thrusting into the fist.

"Come Johnny. I want to see you come."

"So close. So fucking close. Make your fist tighter."

John was snapping his hips back and forth, into the fist and back onto Jim's cock to meet his thrusts in. With a shout of Jim's name he came, his cock spluttering and twitching and he released all over the mirror. Jim continued tugging on his cock until he had nothing left to give.

"Oh God Johnny, it was perfect. Absolutely perfect." Jim said moving his hand back to John's hip and speeding up to race towards his own orgasm.

John's hand slipped just as Jim did a particularly hard thrust. John tried to catch himself and instead pushed his hands through the mirror, shattering it. Jim came right at that moment, continuing to fuck John through his orgasm. When he was done emptying himself he rested his chin on John's shoulder and looked at the broken mirror.

"What a lovely mess you've made." Jim said running his hands down John's arms and helping him ease out of the broken mirror so he didn't cut anything further. "I'm afraid that's seven years bad luck for you Johnny."

"Fuck." John said inspecting the damage. There were a few large, jagged pieces embedded in his hand. He'd managed to avoid his wrists, which was a blessing.

Jim guided him over to the bed and made him sit down. "Stay there." Jim pulled his dressing gown on, tying it loosely before leaving the room. John couldn't remove any of the glass without closing his hand slightly and forcing the pieces in his other hand to cut in deeper. Instead he started pulling the pieces out with his teeth.

Jim came back with a first aid kit and sat down on the bed next to John. "Let me." He said holding John's hand on top of his own. John thought he was going to pull the pieces out with his fingers but instead Jim lowered his head and continued pulling pieces out with his teeth just like John had done. There weren't too many and at least they were large enough to see.

When his right hand was free of any glass, Jim ran his tongue over it. John wasn't sure if he was checking for more pieces of it he was tasting John's blood. Either way, John didn't say anything and instead sat there and let him. Jim switched over to the left hand, doing the same. When John was devoid of any glass, Jim reached for the first aid kit and pulled out some antiseptic and some bandages.

John was surprised by how carefully Jim went over his skin with the cotton swab. John hissed as the antiseptic stung the cuts and Jim gave him a look that seemed almost apologetic. When he started wrapping up John's hands, he do so expertly and with precision. John stared at him, slightly awed.

"Sometimes I do this for Sebastian." Jim informed him when he glanced up and saw John's bewildered expression.

"Who?"

"Oh right, I guess you two haven't officially met. Seb's my chief of staff, my right hand man. The John Watson to my Sherlock Holmes as it were." Jim explained, never straying from his task. "He's the one who kidnapped you and brought you to me the first time you came here."

"I never saw him."

"No, you wouldn't, would you? Sebastian is very good at his job."

"So if you have your own John Watson, what are you doing here with me?"

"That's a pretty long list of reasons." Jim shrugged, trying to brush it off but John wasn't having it.

"Such as?"

"I don't mix business and pleasure. Getting involved with someone who worked for me would be stupid and messy."

"As opposed to what we're doing, which is simple and clean." John chided with a snort.

"Sebastian also has this affliction that makes sex between us impossible."

"Oh really, what?" John asked, the doctor in him unable to stop from being curious.

"He only has sex with women." Jim answered with a smirk.

"Ah."

"There's also the fact that I didn't exactly…plan on this happening. You came along quite suddenly and without warning. I wasn't prepared or expecting anything like this to occur."

"Came along and blindsided you, did I?"

"Quite."

Jim finished bandaging John's hands in silence and John stared at the Consulting Criminal sitting next to him. Things kept shifting between them each time they were together. It had started out as just rough sex in public places but now it was something else entirely, something indescribable. John didn't have a word for it, whatever this was.

"You're staring at me." Jim said keeping his gaze lowered as he finished up.

"Is it bothering you?"

"No." Jim said raising his eyes. John stared back into those large brown eyes. They could be piercing and terrifying, John had seen them as such but right now they were soft, gentle even. John looked at them, feeling so utterly confused. How could one man be two completely different things?

"Thank you." John said when Jim had finished. Jim turned away to put the rest of the gauze and the antiseptic back in the first aid kit.

"You must be tired." Jim said, still not looking at John.

"I am, a bit." John agreed.

"Get some rest." Jim said, grabbing the kit and heading towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm letting you sleep." Jim replied as if this were obvious.

"I don't like being in here without you, it feels weird." John held out his hand, asking Jim to come back.

"I'm not tired." Jim said to the floor, not meeting John's eyes.

"Please." John said softly. "Just until I fall asleep."

Jim shifted his weight from foot to foot as he contemplated it.

"Please." John said again.

"Fine." Jim snapped, setting the kit on the dresser before stomping his way over to the bed. He shoved John over and climbed under the covers. John grinned triumphantly and slipped under the sheets himself. Jim kept as much space between them as possible and John let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes before scooting over so he was pressed up against him.

"I won't be able to sleep with you laying all over me." Jim grumbled as john rested his head on Jim's shoulder.

"You're not here to sleep, I'm the one sleeping." John shot back, yawning as he snuggled in closer to the psychopath.

"I don't cuddle." Jim said trying to push John away.

"I'm not remotely interested in what you do and don't do." John replied, tangling his legs with Jim's.

Jim huffed out a breath in resignation before putting his arm around John and resting his head against his. It didn't take John long before he drifted off to sleep in the arms of an evil genius.

XXXX

John awoke later to find himself alone in Jim's bed, which really wasn't that surprising. He found a dressing gown laid out on the bed for him. He slipped it on and went to go find Jim. He hadn't actually had a good look at the flat, usually going from the door to the bedroom. It was a nice flat, bigger than Baker Street, and much too large for just one person. Then again Jim seemed to enjoy being extravagant.

There was a large kitchen, fully stocked with food. There were no body parts in the fridge, which he had sort of been expecting. Maybe he kept his experiments at a different safehouse. John had already figured that this couldn't be Jim's only base of operations or he never would have brought John here. There was a large bathroom with both a bathtub and a shower. Another bedroom that looked barely used and John wondered if maybe this was meant for the elusive Sebastian.

John finally found Jim at the end of the hall in a room that John figured must have been Jim's office/study. It had several computers, all of them on, each screen showing something different. One was playing BBC news, one was playing what looked like CCTV footage, another had nothing but code running on it. Jim was sitting hunched over, studying something carefully.

"What time is it?" John asked stretching his arms over his head.

"Just after eight o'clock. You've been asleep for the past two hours." Jim said without looking up from what he was doing.

"Should I make us some tea?" John asked slipping his fingers into Jim's hair and caressing it gently.

"I'd rather have sex again." Jim countered, grabbing John's face and pulling him down for a kiss.

"Then you shouldn't have left the bed." John said between kisses.

"You're boring when you sleep." Jim shrugged.

"You should see me when I have a nightmare, I bet that would keep you entertained." John smiled wryly.

'I'm sure it would." Jim said standing, leaving whatever he was working on abandoned.

They made their way back to the bedroom, shedding off their dressing gowns and climbing onto the bed. "So am I fucking you roughly like I said I would?"

"No, I want you to fuck me slowly."

"Enjoyed that, did you?" John grinned, just brushing his lips against Jim's.

"Yes." Jim breathed.

"Will you prepare yourself for me? I can't stop thinking about it."

Jim nodded and grabbed the lube, slicking up both hands. John sat down against the headboard and waited. Jim laid down on the bed facing opposite him, bracing his feet up against the headboard with his hips tilted up. John stared transfixed as Jim massaged his opening until it fluttered and unclenched. He slipped two fingers in, working them in and out unhurriedly.

"Fuck Jim." John groaned, watching his fingers were swallowed up by his opening.

He only looked away when Jim's other slicked up hand started stroking John's cock. He did twisting upstrokes, thumb rubbing over the head. "Christ Jim I'm ready, please tell me you're ready."

Another nod and John made his way between Jim's legs, lifting one off the headboard to duck underneath it, only to replace it. "Stay just like that." John requested, resting the head of his cock against Jim's pucker.

He pushed in slowly, lips exploring Jim's skin. He kissed and licked, no biting or sucking. He was tender, gentle because that's what Jim had asked for. John couldn't hold himself up by his hands so he propped himself up by the elbows, meaning their bodies were quite close. Jim's prick was trapped between them and John rubbed against it as he started moving. Their lips met, kissing slowly. Jim's eyes were closed, even when they broke the kiss.

"Are you ok?" John asked, holding his movements for a moment.

"Of course." Jim replied, barely cracking an eye open.

"You can tell me if you're not."

"I'm fine." Jim bit back, grinding his hips down to signal to John that he should start moving. He gave in and started moving again, each thrust hitting deep, slipping so far into that tight heat that John felt consumed by it. He pressed soft kisses along Jim's collarbone. Jim tilted his head back, elongating his neck and John couldn't help sucking at his pale skin he'd just exposed.

Jim ran his hands up and down John's back, not digging his fingernails in at all, which was something John had come to expect. John picked up the pace just slightly, each thrust unrushed. "So bloody gorgeous." John murmured against Jim's when he was buried to the hilt yet again, feeling Jim pressed up against him.

Jim arched his back and came, his eyes opening and then widening. "John." He gasped as he spilled himself between them.

Jim's body clenched around John's cock and sent John over the edge as well. He continued thrusting until there was nothing left. For a moment the two men stared at each other as their breathing returned to normal. John gave Jim a quick kiss on the lips before carefully easing out. He dropped down onto the bed next to Jim and took a moment to compose himself.

"I should probably go home." John said sitting up. Jim immediately grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back down.

"No, you should stay." Jim replied, moving on top of him and pining his wrists on either side of his head. He started kissing down John's chest, sucking and nibbling at the skin.

"Jim."

"What's your hurry? Sherlock won't notice if you don't come home."

"Right, the world's most observant man won't notice if his flatmate doesn't come home."

"Fine, allow me to rephrase. Sherlock won't  _care_  if you don't come home."

"You're wrong." John said with conviction.

"Oh don't be delusional Johnny." Jim said, rolling his eyes. "Sherlock doesn't care about anyone."

"Stop talking about him like you know him." John said, beginning to get angry. He didn't like Jim make assumptions about John's friendship with Sherlock.

"Oh but I do. I know because he and I are the same."

"Meaning you don't care about anyone either." John translated.

"Of course I don't." Jim scoffed, scowling down at John. "Caring is a weakness. Sherlock understands that too. I bet I could send him a video of us shagging and he wouldn't be phased in the slightest."

"You don't know him. He was pretty shaken when he thought I was having sex with his brother."

"Did you correct him?"

"I told him it wasn't Mycroft."

"And you think that means he cares about you? Please, you're his pet, his possession. Just because he doesn't like the idea of sharing you with his pompous twat of a brother doesn't mean he cares."

"That's it." John wrenched his hand out of Jim's grip and socked him in the jaw. Jim lost his balance and fell off the bed. John took a moment to shaking out his aching hand. The punch had probably hurt him more than it had hurt Jim but at least it was satisfying.

He climbed off the bed just as Jim scrambled to his feet. John grabbed the other man and shoved him roughly against the wall. "You don't say another fucking word about Sherlock. Whenever we're together it's like he doesn't exist, do you understand me? You say another god damn word about him and I'll –"

"You'll what?" Jim asked, his eyes narrowing menacingly. "You'll leave? You've already said you were going to, don't be redundant Johnny. Will you hit me again? Or will you finally kill me, rid the world of my evil like you did with Jefferson Hope? How do you justify that, by the way? It wasn't self-defense, you were in no danger."

"He was going to kill Sherlock."

"Was he though? Do you really have so little faith in Sherlock's abilities?"

"I couldn't take that chance." John said through gritted teeth.

"Is that what you tell yourself? Is that how you rationalize it? That you were acting for the greater good? Then again I suppose killing a man who's dying anyway doesn't make a whole lot of difference. But then you didn't know that when you took the shot."

"Shut up or I swear – "

"You'll what?" Jim challenged him, unthreatened. "Look me in the eye and tell me that deep down you didn't kill the cabbie simply because you wanted to. You enjoyed it Johnny, I know you did. The power of it. There's nothing quite like taking a life, is there?"

"Shut your fucking mouth." John practically screamed.

"You laughed John, not ten minutes after you shot a man. You laughed."

"You were watching?" John asked, caught off guard and forgetting their argument for a moment.

"Hope was my pet project at the time, of course I was watching."

"You're wrong about me, just like you're wrong about Sherlock. I don't enjoy killing people. I'm a doctor for Christ's sake."

"Ah yes, just another way to play God, to hold lives in your hands and do with them as you will."

"Shut. Up."

"I know you Johnny. I know you better than anyone. I know what you like, I know how you think, I know everything."

"You really don't."

And doesn't that just terrify you?" Jim said with a strange sort of glee. "That the person who knows you best is a psychotic killer. It must worry you to death."

"If you don't stop talking, I am going to kill you." John threatened.

"Go on then." Jim snarled uncaringly. "Your hand must be hurting you. Time to make a decision Johnny boy. Gag me, cut me, screw me, kill me, just fucking do it already. CHOOSE." He screamed the last word, making John's blood run cold and reminding him so much of their first meeting in the pool.

John clenched his jaw and stared Moriarty down. They stayed like that for several minutes, both of them breathing heavily, the air passing between them as neither of them broke eye contact. Finally John pulled away, releasing Jim's wrists.

"It doesn't matter anyway. We're through. You're never going to see me again. We're done." John said snatching up his jeans.

For a moment something like fear flashed over Jim's face but in an instant it was gone and replaced with his usual icy demeanor. "This isn't over." Jim growled, tearing the trousers away from John's hands. "This isn't fucking over till I say it is."

"I'm not doing this anymore Jim."

"You are if I say you are."

"Give me a reason. You want me to stay, you give me a bloody fantastic reason why I should."

"Because you still want me."

"I want my sanity more." John countered, grabbing his shirt up off the floor.

"Still trying to rationalize everything." Jim shook his head, smirking with amusement. "It's lust Johnny, pure and simple. I can't explain it to you because it's all chemical reactions."

"Not good enough Jim. Not good enough."

"John." Jim said softly, his head bowed. John turned to look at him, waiting expectantly. "You said all I had to do was ask you to stay and you would."

"That was before. I need more than that now."

"Fine. You want a reason?" Jim asked, baring his teeth in a truly terrifying expression. "I'll give you the only reason that matters."

"Go on then." John said crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because going home means facing Sherlock, facing the fact that he rejected you, feeling the sting of it. And because I don't mind being your consolation prize."

John scrubbed his hands over his face, feeling so tired. For all his objections, he knew Jim was right. Maybe not about all of it but certainly about John not wanting to go home and perhaps that was enough. "Fine Jim, you win. I'll stay."

"I always do Johnny, I always do."

XXXX

John awoke to the sight of Moriarty looming over him with the tip of a large knife grazing over his heart. It wasn't cutting, just slightly scraping the skin. "Are you going to kill me Jim?"

"If I was going to kill you I would have done it when you were asleep and unable to fight back." Jim replied and it shouldn't have been comforting but it was. "You've already proven you're stronger than I am. A physical altercation between the two of us would not go my way. I would be at a terrible disadvantage."

"Then what are you doing?"

Jim didn't answer, instead moving the knife away and turning his head to press his ear against John's chest. "I find your heartbeat oddly comforting. That's never happened to me before. I usually prefer to listen to them stop."

John could feel the knife resting against his stomach so he took shallow breaths, careful not to move and cause the knife to pierce his skin.

"I will hurt you Johnny."

"I don't doubt it." John answered calmly.

Jim sat up and stared into John's eyes as if he were searching for something. "I'll probably enjoy it when I do."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

Jim frowned as if he were displeased with John's answer. "Is that why you keep coming back here? Am I just the means to fulfill your need for danger?"

"What are you asking me Jim?"

"I'm asking why you have no sense of self-preservation. You know what I am, you know what I do and you still come back. Why?"

"I don't know." John answered honestly. "I guess for a crazed psycho, you're not terrible company."

That's it?"

"What do you want me to say Jim?"

"I need to know why." Jim said in frustration.

"Look, I have no delusions when it comes to you. You're right, I know what you are because I've witnessed it first hand. I know what you do because most of it you've done to me personally. I like knowing where I stand and that's something I have with you. I don't understand why it matters though, you keep saying its just sex."

"It is just sex." Jim insisted yet again.

"Then why do I need a reason? Isn't the promise of an orgasm enough of one?"

"You could get that anywhere. You don't need me to get your rocks off."

"Whatever it is you're trying to figure out, just remember that you strapped me to a bomb and yet I'm still here. If that isn't enough you just held a knife over my heart, probably with the intent to plunge it in, and I haven't moved. That should tell you everything you need to know. In fact I'm not sure what more you could possibly do to me short of actually killing me."

"You shouldn't say such things Johnny. I'm likely to take that as a challenge."

"You can take it however you want." John shrugged. "No need for me to question your motives."

"Really and why's that?"

"I already know why you keep asking me over."

"Enlighten me."

"I've got a sparkling personality and a massive cock, not that difficult to figure out." John said with an exaggerated wink.

Jim snorted as John turned on his side and pulled the covers up.

"If you think you're sleeping with a knife in the bed, guess again. I have no problems pushing you onto the floor." John said over his shoulder.

"But it's my bed." Jim said indignantly.

"And I'm your guest. No knives in the bed." John said with finality.

"I thought I might use it to keep you from cuddling me in your sleep." Jim said moving closer.

John laughed and Jim smiled. He put the knife on the bedside table and slipped in next to John, fitting his body against his. John reached back, grabbing Jim's arm and placing it over him.

"This isn't so bad." Jim said nuzzling the nape of John's neck.

"I'm glad it meets your approval." John replied sleepily. "Now go to sleep my deranged little psychopath."

"I'm not yours."

"Of course you're not." John said finding it amusing that that was what Jim objected to out of everything he said.

"Do you want me to be?" Jim whispered.

"I'll let you know in the morning if you don't kill me in my sleep." John said with a yawn.

"I'll try to restrain myself then."

"Very kind of you. Good night Jim."

"Night Johnny."


	6. Chapter 6

Jim Moriarty had two phones, although that wasn't exactly how he thought about it. It was more that Jim had a phone and Moriarty had a phone. Moriarty's was black, full of business contacts and clients and anyone in his network important enough to deserve a personal call from him. Jim's phone, however, was white and it only had two numbers in it, John's mobile and work number.

Moriarty never took chances and even though it wasn't that he didn't trust John, it was that he had to be cautious. Too many things could go wrong, too many things could unravel. He'd let John in and if John simply had the inkling to, he could put a serious dent in Moriarty's operations. But at least for now, John would do no such thing. He couldn't give Moriarty away without revealing how he knew such intimate details. For now, Moriarty was safe.

He was being reckless and he knew it. Part of him knew this but was silenced by the other. The part that wanted, that needed, that hungered for the army doctor. The part of him that could feel the cold, emptiness every time he woke up alone. The ghost of John was there, in his bed, reminding him of his warmth and strength, everything Jim had come to need. He'd stay up all night working just to avoid the feeling, the hollow feeling that John's absence put upon him.

And so Jim started to text him, just to have a fleeting moment of contact, even if it is a superficial one. He liked knowing that John was thinking about him when they were apart. When John was at work or Jim was wrapped up in his "evil plans" as John called them. A single moment of interrupting John's day to remind him that Jim was there. It was borderline obsessive but Jim couldn't bring himself to care and John didn't seem to mind.

Jim liked watching John on the CCTV if he could just to see his face when he received one of Jim's texts. To see if he smiled or rolled his eyes. More often than not though, Jim was preoccupied with clients and business that kept him from watching, from seeing. But even then, there was always texting.

XXXX

Jim had never been so bored with a client in all his life. He sat, reclined in his chair with Moran on his right, listening to some fool go on and on about his troubles. Jim was scowling, wondering when he became a therapist. The man had been embezzling for years and wanted Jim's help to cover it up, something Jim could do in his sleep.

He turned his phone over and over in his hand as he only half-listened. Normally a client like this wouldn't require face-time from Jim, but because he was paying extra, Jim had allowed him that courtesy. It was something he was most profoundly regretting. So instead he decided to text John, to make this meeting go by faster.

_Talk dirty to me –M_

**I'm at work.**

_So? –M_

**So I can't right now. I'm with a patient.**

_But you're still texting me, which means you can talk dirty. Come on Johnny, I'm bored. –M_

**So go have a wank. I need to concentrate.**

Jim frowned for a moment but then he got a brilliant idea. "Sorry, something's come up." He said slipping his phone into his pocket. "Moran will take down the rest of the details and we should have it sorted."

"Oh, yes. Of course." The client said, rising quickly to his feet. Jim shook his hand and went over to Moran.

"I'll be back in an hour, make sure he's gone by then." Jim whispered to his chief of staff before heading out of the room as quickly as possible.

When he arrived home, he instantly started peeling off his suit and went into his closet. He passed his collection of suits and went towards the back where he kept his casual clothes. He slipped on jeans and a black hoodie, not exactly his best disguise but it would have to do. Before heading out, he grabbed a folder from his office that contained one of his many fake identities, tucking it under his arm.

Jim was practically buzzing with anticipation the entire cab ride to the surgery. He stared out the window, London passing by in a blur. It is Moriarty's playground but he couldn't focus on it, couldn't think about anything but seeing John soon. It had only been a little over a week since he'd seen him but it felt like months. All he could think about is the cold emptiness of his bed and he needed John to fill it.

He threw a few notes at the cabbie before clamoring out the door. The lift ride up to the surgery took forever and Jim tapped his foot impatiently. He slid through the lift doors before they'd even opened the full way and went to the reception desk.

"I'm here to see Doctor Watson." He said drumming his fingers on the desk. John was close, he could feel it. He could almost taste him on his tongue already. John couldn't deny him this, not when he'd gone to the trouble to get here.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but John is my Doctor." Jim thought this was true in so many ways.

"He's with a patient right now, we have other Doctor's available if you - "

"I'll wait." Jim interjected in a clipped tone.

"Very well, you'll have to fill this out." She said passing him a clipboard of paperwork. Jim grumbled to himself but took it, filling out the information for this alias. When he finished, he took it back up to the receptionist. "How much longer?" he whined.

"He just hit the call button. You can go wait in room C, third door on the right."

"Thank you." Jim said, shoving his hands in his pockets and stalking down the hall. The room was empty when he got there and he was disappointed. He put his hood up to cover his face, wanting to keep it a surprise for as long as possible. But the moment John entered the room, it was extremely difficult to keep up his façade.

"Hello Mr. Applegate." John read off the chart. "What is it I can help you with today?"

"I'm here for a prostate exam." Jim said pushing his hood back.

"Jim." John groaned in frustration. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, I was bored." Jim replied, hoping down off the examination table and slipping his arms around the doctor.

"Well go be bored somewhere else, I've got to work." John said, trying to disentangle himself from Jim's limbs.

"Come on Johnny, don't be like that. I've given you the perfect excuse. As far as anyone is concerned, I'm just an ordinary patient."

"What do you want Jim?"

"You." Jim answered, slipping his hand down the front of John's trousers. "But then I think that's perfectly obvious."

"Not here." John said sternly.

"Why not?"

"This is where I work!" John said desperately as Jim rubbed him through his underwear.

"Touch me." Jim requested breathlessly, nuzzling his face against John's neck. "I need you to touch me, Johnny please."

  
"Jim."

"Please, just give me something, anything and I'll leave."

"You swear?" John asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes." Jim nodded.

"John stood up a bit straighter. "Drop your trousers and get on the table."

"Yes Doctor." Jim responded with a wide grin, slipping his hand out of John's trousers and backing away. He toed off his shoes before unfastening his belt. He stepped out of his jeans while John went over to the door and locked it.

John sat in his chair and rolled it closer to the examination table while Jim slipped half-naked onto it. He pulled the hoodie up over his head and dropped it onto the floor with the rest of his clothes. He lied out on the table, spreading his legs wide to give the good doctor a decent view of his cock.

"And what seems to be the problem?" John asked in his doctor voice, pointedly not looking at Jim who was spread eagle on his table. Jim licked his lips and grinned.

"It's my penis Doctor, I think it needs taking care of."

John stood up from his chair and joined Jim on the table, kneeling over him. He dropped his head down and started kissing down Jim's chest. "And what's wrong with it?"

"I haven't come in a week."

"That is a problem." John said dipping his tongue into Jim's navel.

"There's only one cure Doctor." Jim played along, enjoying himself very much. This was better than he'd dared hope.

"Let's make you all better." John said, kissing lower and lower until he reached Jim's cock. He licked the underside from root to tip, swirling his tongue over the glands.

"Oh Doctor." Jim gasped, running his fingers through John's hair.

John curled his fingers around the base, moving his other hand lower to cradle Jim's sack. Heat and wet surrounded him as John put his mouth on him. He sucked at the tip, moving his hand up and down to stroke him.

"Oh yes Doctor, just like that." Jim moaned, arching up off the table.

John moved lower slowly, so warm as he engulfed Jim. He started stroking, pulling his hand up to meet his mouth and then moving them further apart. The two conflicting strokes had Jim writhing against the table, pushing his hips up to get more. John pulled back and completely off, eliciting a whimper from Jim. He pressed his lips to the tip of Jim's cock and flicked his tongue out, tasting the bead of precome that had appeared.

"Johnny!" Jim canted his hips, trying to push himself back into John's mouth. John retaliated by moving his face over to Jim's hipbone and sucking the skin. He continued to fondle his balls, kneading them with his fingers. "Mouth. Now."

"You show up at my work and think you can order me about? Sorry Jim, that's not how it works." John said, breathing against Jim's prick and making it twitch in response.

"Come on, suck me, please."

"That's better." John said sliding off the table.

"Where are you going? Jim asked frantically.

"Hold on." John replied, grabbing the gel used for prostate exams and bringing it over. He grabbed Jim by the hips and pulled him down so he was right at the edge of the table.

Jim could only stare as John rubbed the gel between his first two fingers and his thumb. "You make any noise at all and I'll stop." John threatened, standing up against the table between Jim's legs. He massaged Jim's hole with his thumb, going in small circles until it fluttered open. He pressed two fingers in at the same time that he swallowed Jim's cock down.

Jim clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from crying out as so many sensations filled him. John moved his fingers and his mouth in perfect unison, lips tight against Jim's dick to suck him hard as his fingers pressed against his prostate on every thrust in.

Jim was breathing harshly through his nose, moaning uncontrollably against his hand. John broke the pattern as he toyed with Jim's sweet spot, crooking his finger to brush over it relentlessly. Jim was coming undone quickly, body shaking as he neared climax. He saw spots as his body convulsed, a powerful orgasm ripping through him, his body clenching down on John's fingers.

Sobbing at the loss of both John's mouth and his fingers, John sat down in his chair and waited. Jim sat up carefully and John simply smiled at him. "Feel better?"

"Yes." Jim croaked out, nodding his head.

"Good, Now I have other patients to see." John said, turning his chair away. "You should probably get dressed."

Jim's lips curled into a frightening smile as he jumped down from the table. He grabbed the back of John's chair and spun him so they were facing each other. "As if I would leave you in such a state." Jim's eyes flickered down to the bulge in John's trousers.

"Jim, you said you'd leave." John reminded him as Jim straddled John in his chair.

"You can't go out there looking like that, you'll terrify your co-workers." Jim reasoned, unzipping his fly. He rubbed John's cock with two fingers while simultaneously pressing down on the lever that made the chair recline. They followed it down, John resting against it while Jim tugged his trousers and pants down to free John's erection.

"Jim, stop." John warned.

"Come on Johnny, one quick, dirty fuck. I know you want to." Jim breathed against his ear.

"I have to get back to work." John tried in vain to protest but Jim formed his lips around John's. The kiss was hot and sloppy as they fought for dominance. Jim gained the upper ground by moving his face up and plunging his tongue deep into John's mouth, making the other man moan.

While John was distracted by the kiss, Jim moved directly over John's cock and ground himself down enough to feel the blunt head against his hole. He moved lower still, impaling himself in one swift movement. "Too late now Johnny." He grinned triumphantly as he started riding him. He gripped the back of the chair and used it to pull himself up before dropping back down.

John grabbed Jim's hips, fingers digging in as he helped him move. He started thrusting his hips up, shoving himself deeper. Jim dropped his head back with a groan, elongating his neck as they crashed together over and over.

"Come on Johnny, let go. Come for me."

"Christ. So close Jim. So good. Ride me harder."

Jim began bucking against him unyieldingly, clenching tightly around John as he circled his hips. He could feel John rubbing against every inch of him, throbbing inside and penetrating him impossibly deep. Their eyes locked and John's lids were heavy, pupils blown wide.

"Fuck Jim, fuck. I'm coming, right now I – "

John smashed their lips together to muffle his cry of ecstasy. He kept his hips thrusting up inside Jim until his orgasm subsided. Jim collapsed down on top of John, burying his face in the crook of his neck. They both started kissing each other's collarbones until they brought their lips back together. Jim pulled away and kissed down John's jaw, settling at his neck and starting to suck. John fisted his hand in Jim's hair and yanked him back. "No lovebites. I really have to get back to work now."

Jim pouted and John laughed, nipping at his protruding lower lip. "When can I see you again?" Jim asked giving John another quick kiss.

"Whenever you want, you have my number."

"That I do."

* * *

**Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me.**

Jim stared at the words, wondering if maybe he had mixed up his phones. But no, it was definitely his white phone and he double-checked that it was John's number. He read them over and over, so utterly confused by them. It wasn't until John finally sent another text that Jim understood.

**My flatemate is being an insufferable twat.**

Jim grinned and typed back a quick reply.

_Sending Seb with his rifle. –M_

**I was hoping for a less violent solution.**

_The car will be there in twenty, if you can't hold out that long, wave a lit candle in front of the window and Seb will take care of it. –M_

Jim and John started texting each other a lot. In fact it became strange if they went a day without texting each other. Each of John's texts started the same way, with "Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me." It was clever and made Jim smile. He always replied with a solution, even if he couldn't get out to see John himself. Sometimes John followed his advice, most times he didn't, claiming the ideas were too violent.

When Jim couldn't get away to see John, it affected his mood. He'd spend the day in an angry fog, unable to concentrate on anything. He wouldn't calm down until he had texted John again and made definite plans to see each other in the near future. It was getting bad and Jim could feel Moriarty eating away at him, asking him just what the bloody hell he thought he was doing. But Jim couldn't stop and he didn't want to. John was too important and he was enjoying himself too much.

* * *

**Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me? I haven't had an orgasm in a week. This seems unacceptable.**

_There will be a taxi outside Baker Street in ten minutes, get into it. –M_

John did as Jim asked and sure enough not ten minutes later there was a cab outside his flat. John got into it without a word and it pulled away from the curb. John stared out the window, expecting to be taken to Jim's place. Instead the cab turned down an abandoned alley and the engine was cut off.

John opened his mouth to ask what was going on when the cabbie spoke. "Honestly you must be the least observant person in all of London." Jim said, smirking at John through the rearview mirror.

"You could have told me it was you." John snapped back in irritation.

"I wanted to see how long you'd take to figure it out." Jim shrugged, climbing over the seat to join John in the back.

"And how exactly did you acquire a cab?"

"It's easy enough if you know how."

They stripped quickly and Jim pushed John down against the back seat, lying on top of him. They rutted against each other, cocks rubbing together and apart, kissing all the while.

"Christ Jim, I needed this." John said, already getting close just from the friction of Jim's cock sliding against his.

"I've been busy." Jim explained, keeping their bodies brushing together while he pawed at his clothes, trying to find the lube in his trouser pocket. They kept their pace going as he slicked up his fingers and hurriedly prepared John. He didn't waste time, scissoring his fingers until John was stretched enough to take him.

He lifted John's legs up so he was bent in half, his feet up on Jim's shoulders. He pressed in quickly, fucking John hard and rough. John put his arms up over his head and braced himself against the door of the cab, pushing himself down against Jim's thrusts in.

Jim snapped his hips on each pounding thrust in. "Oh fuck yes." John moaned, biting down on his lower lip.

"Johnny…" Jim gasped his name as he came, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time deep inside the army doctor.

It only took a few twisting pulls before John came as well, spilling himself over his stomach. Jim licked him clean, lapping up as much of his come as he could. They got dressed quickly, both of them looking disheveled. Only one half of Jim's shirt was tucked in and John's hair was sticking up in every direction. They stepped out of the cab and tried to fix themselves as much as possible.

"Wait, you're just going to leave the cab here?"

"It's not my cab." Jim said simply.

"Oh for fuck's sake." John snorted and shook his head disapprovingly.

"See you soon?" Jim asked, giving John an almost shy smile.

"Yes." John nodded, giving Jim a quick kiss before they headed on their own ways, going in opposite directions.

* * *

**Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me. My entire flat smells like sulfur and if I don't get out of here soon I'm going to choke and die.**

_So open a window –M_

**I was hoping the criminal mastermind that I am sleeping with, but in no way dating, might be able to come to my rescue.**

_Go to the movie theater near your house, that will get you out of the flat for awhile. –M_

John walked through the dark theater looking for any sign of the Consulting Criminal. He was not actually certain Jim was there; this could simply be his solution to the flat smelling like someone had terrible gas. Sherlock had been doing another one of his experiments, not even warning John that the flat was going to end up smelling so awful.

He had a tub of popcorn, a drink and a packet of jelly babies (Jim's favorite) just in case he decided to show up. The theater wasn't too crowded since it was a six o'clock showing on a Wednesday. He sat in the back row, which was mostly empty except for a couple necking in the corner and a guy sitting alone with a flat cap covering his face. For a moment John thought he was sleeping but then he shifted in his seat, sinking lower.

John sat, putting the drink in the holder and placed  the popcorn between his legs. The previews had just begun and the popcorn was uncomfortably hot against his thighs. He looked for somewhere to put the candy when it was snatched out of his hand. John turned and was ready to say something when he noticed who was now sitting next to him. The flat cap had been pushed back and John felt stupid for not recognizing Jim sooner.

"My favorite!" Jim exclaimed happily, tearing open the bag with his teeth and popping one into his mouth.

They settled in together and John moved the drink so it was between them. John slowly ate his popcorn, watching the screen as the movie began. The credits hadn't even started when he could feel Jim watching him. He turned his face and Jim pressed their lips together. The saltiness from the popcorn mixed with the sweetness of the candy as they kissed through the opening credits.

It was some action movie and Jim soon got distracted by the first set of explosions. When they had stopped and there were long stretches of dialogue, he latched himself onto John's neck. Then he pulled away for a particularly thrilling action, watching the screen intently. Jim took John's hand and placed it on his groin. John removed his hand but Jim stared at him, his big brown eyes pleading, looking not unlike a puppy.

John sighed and Jim undid his jeans, smiling triumphantly. John's hands were still covered in butter as he slipped his hand under the waistband of Jim's underwear. It made it easy to slide his hand up and down Jim's cock quickly. He pumped his cock hurriedly and soon Jim bit back his cry as he came over John's hand.

John grabbed a napkin and wiped both of them down as best he could. Jim redid his jeans and slumped down in his seat, putting his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him. He started eating his candy again as if nothing had happened and John just shook his head incredulously.

After the movie was finished, they had a quick snog outside the theater. "What do you think the chances are your flat still smells like shite?" Jim asked, lacing his fingers through John's.

"Pretty good, I'd say."

"Want to come back to mine?"

"Oh thank god, I was hoping you'd offer." John sighed in relief, tugging on their joined hands so Jim stumbled closer and their lips met again.

"Come on." Jim said, raising his arm to hail a cab.


	7. Chapter 7

John was always careful about deleting any texts from Jim almost immediately after he'd read them. There were a few he would have liked to have kept but Sherlock had a habit of borrowing his phone. It would have been It was too much of a risk to keep them.

Still, John took extra precautions. Moriarty was listed in his contacts simply as "him." He never took Jim's calls in front of Sherlock always excusing himself and leaving the room. As best he could, he never let his phone leave his person. It was difficult, trying to keep a secret from Sherlock, but not impossible. It was made easier by the current strain in their friendship.

**Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me. I had to miss lunch and there's nothing edible in the flat. If I don't get some food soon, I might die of starvation.**

_Eat one of the biscuits in the tin by the microwave. I have to finish a little problem first but the car will be there in an hour. Think you can wait that long? –M_

**Not even going to ask how you know where we keep the biscuits. I think I might survive but just barely.**

_Be there as soon as I can –M_

**Thank You.**

_Can't wait to see you Johnny –M_

John chucked his phone on his bed and went to shower. Any meeting with Jim pretty much guaranteed sex and John felt covered in germs from the surgery. He scrubbed himself clean, making sure to cover all the important bits. He took his time, knowing he had an hour to kill, his stomach rumbling unhappily.

He was somewhat surprised that Jim was agreeing to this. They were still banned from eating together and so Jim agreeing to feed him seemed a bit off. Maybe they were just going to get takeaway at Jim's flat without Jim sharing any. Would that still count under the "no sharing a meal together" parameters set forth by the Consulting Criminal?

He had no idea why Jim was so reluctant to call it a relationship. They'd been having semi-regular sex and texting each other for over two months. John's relationship with Sarah hadn't even lasted that long. They'd gone to the opera, the cinema, they'd spent the night sleeping in each other's arms, all things John would considere part of dating. But if Jim was determined that this not be more than sex, John wasn't going to argue, especially since it was pretty extraordinary sex. He didn't really know how he'd handle being in a real relationship with Jim anyway. The idea of it was fairly ludicrous.

When he stepped out of the shower, he quickly toweled himself off and then wrapped it around his waist. Going back into his bedroom, he found Sherlock standing next to his bed, John's mobile in his hand. John froze, unsure what to do. He'd deleted every message except the last one. Had Sherlock seen it? Had he figured it all out? John held his breath, waiting to see what Sherlock would say.

"You don't like to be called Johnny." Sherlock said, closing John's mobile with a decisive snap.

"Not usually, no." In fact John hated to be called Johnny but any time he asked Jim to stop, the request simple went ignored. It seemed like a losing battle so John had simply given up and resigned himself to being "Johnny" when he was with Jim. He was actually starting not to mind too much.

"Because your sister calls you Johnny and it's painful to be reminded of her and you don't want to be thinking about your sister when you're with your lover. Yet they still call you Johnny. Doesn't seem like a very considerate person."

"Sherlock, just leave it will you?" John asked going over to his dresser and pulling out clean pants and socks.

"And M, who's M? Mycroft perhaps?" Sherlock practically growled.

"Oh come on, not with that again. I am not shagging your brother and I never will shag your brother." John rolled his eyes and rifled through his things trying to figure out what to wear. Usually it didn't matter since Jim liked to strip John the moment they were together but since there was a chance they could actually sit down and eat together, John wanted to be dressed for the occasion.

"Then who? It must be someone I know or you wouldn't be taking such great pains to keep it a secret. If it were a stranger it wouldn't matter if I knew their name or not. It could be that they're unattractive but you're not a vain man and you did date the girl with the spots, making it an unlikely cause for your secrecy." Sherlock reasoned, staring at the phone as if it might give him more clues. "Your old army friend, Bill Muarry but it's unlikely he could afford such an extravagant car like the one that's been picking you up. Same goes for Mike Stamford and he's married. You don't seem the type to have an affair with a married man."

John couldn't help thinking that Sherlock really had no idea what John would and wouldn't do or else he would have figured out John's mystery date much sooner. John was just thankful that Jim had a somewhat ambiguous sign off for his texts.

"It must be Mycroft, he's the only one that fits the criteria, the only thing that makes sense." Sherlock threw John's mobile onto the bed in frustration.

"It's not Mycroft. In all the time's I've been in the company of your brother, have you ever seen me show the slightest interest in him?"

"Well, no but you could have been doing that on purpose."

"Sherlock, I promise you. I would never have sex with Mycroft, not just because he's your brother but because he is really, really not my type at all."

"I wasn't aware you had a type."

 _Good-looking, alluring, dark hair, brilliantly intelligent, slightly mad it would seem,_ John couldn't help thinking but outwardly he simply shrugged. Then awkwardly realized that that did, in some ways describe Mycroft. John shuddered at the thought.

"Did you ever think that maybe the reason I've been keeping this from you has nothing to do with who I'm dating and has everything to do with you?" John asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction.

"Me? Why should I factor into it?" Sherlock blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. If it were anyone else, this wouldn't need explaining.

'Sherlock, things are different between us now. Surely you must have noticed that our friendship has been a bit strained lately. Do you ever think that maybe I haven't told you about him because it would make things awkward."

"Why would they?"

"God, do I really need to explain this to you?" John rubbed his hands over his eyes for a second. "I fancied you Sherlock, I know it's not something either of us liked to talk about but it was there."

"Was?" Sherlock asked, noticing the past tense.

"Maybe it still is a little bit but I'm doing my best to move on. You said you weren't interested so I'm doing what I can to feel differently. But it means that there are certain things I can't talk to you about anymore because it's uncomfortable, for me at least. I'm trying Sherlock, I'm really trying to get us back to where we were, to being just friends because I do want that. You just have to give me time and let me figure things out." John, although evading the truth, was not actually lying. He did want them to go back to being friends, even if that lingering attraction would always be there.

"Fine." Sherlock replied somewhat begrudgingly. "And what state should I expect you to arrive home in?"

John sighed loudly and scrubbed his hand over his face. Sherlock had been somewhat disapproving ever since John came home with his hands bandaged and angry indents in his neck. "I told you it was an accident."

"Hmm." Sherlock answered as if he didn't really believe that. "The hands maybe, but there's no way the neck wound was accidental."

"Is this really the conversation you want to have?" John asked, placing his hands on his hips in irritation. "You want to know about what I do in the bedroom?"

"So it was a sexual thing." Sherlock concluded.

"You want me to list off all my little kinks for you or are you done?"

"Did you get off on it?" Sherlock pressed on and John had no idea why he was responding to the questions.

"I came, if that's what you're wondering although asphyxiation isn't really my thing. But he liked it, so I liked it. Anything else you want to know or can I get dressed now?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by John's mobile buzzing on the bed. Sherlock's hand twitched, obviously wanting to pick up the phone and read whatever message John had just been sent. It was almost a miracle that Sherlock had that much self-restraint.

John went over to the bed and picked up his phone. As he'd suspected, there was another message from Moriarty. He glanced over at his flatmate to make sure Sherlock wasn't attempting to peek but the man had his eyes fixed on the door.

_Wear the suit I bought you. Car will be there in five minutes. –M_

"Shit." John swore, wondering how he'd ever find the time to get ready.

"Well I've got an experiment to see to." Sherlock said before striding from the room. John wasn't sure if that was true or a lie but it didn't really matter. He shut his door and locked it before digging through his closet to find the Boss suit. Carefully, he laid it down on his bed and started revising any theories he'd had for how they were spending the evening. Obviously takeaway in front of the telly was out unless that was something Jim did dressed up, which John wasn't ruling out at this point.

He dressed quickly, keeping his eye on the clock to make sure he was staying within the five minute time frame. His stomach was verging on painfully hungry and he could only hope the food would come before they started shagging. He wasn't holding out much hope though. When he passed by the kitchen, Sherlock was leaning over his microscope. John wasn't sure if it was just to make his lie seem real or if he actually was in the middle of an experiment.

He made it to the usual curb in just under seven minutes, the same black car idling in wait. As usual he was expecting to be taken to Jim's flat, it was after all, where they spent most of their time together. Theories were revised again as John thought about where he might be taken this time. It couldn't be a restaurant, too risky even for Jim. Who knew who they might run into. The Opera was obscure enough that they didn't really have to worry about it. But going to a restaurant together would be a terrible idea.

The car finally stopped in front of an abandoned building by the Thames. John got out smoothing out his suit and buttoning the jacket as the car pulled away. There was a single dark red rose taped to the door with a note.  _Come upstairs to the roof –M._ John slipped the note into his pocket and gingerly pulled the flower down. It still had its thorns on so he made sure to hold it carefully between two fingers.

There were four flights of stairs before John opened the rusted door that lead to the roof. Moriarty was there waiting for him and the moment he saw John, he pressed a single button on his Ipod and opera came floating from the four speakers that he been positioned at each corner of the roof. There was a table made in the middle, a candelabra in the center along with a small vase of more red roses to match the one John was holding.

"You're late." Jim said coolly, his feet propped up on the table. "Apparently you aren't as hungry as you said."

"Oh shut it, I'm not even two minutes late." John shot back, making his way over to the table.

Jim dropped his feet and stood, walking around the table to catch John before he got to his seat. "You make minutes seem like hours Johnny. It's not nice to keep impatient men waiting." Jim said sucking John's earlobe in between his teeth and nibbling at it.

"You seem to have gone to a lot of trouble." John said nodding his head towards the table. "Wouldn't want to waste it." To emphasize his point, John's stomach gave an impressive growl. Jim smoothed his hand over John's stomach, rubbing it gently. His hand started to slip lower. "Jim." John said warningly, giving the Consulting Criminal a slight push away.

"Alright, fine." Jim said visibly pouting. John laughed and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in. He caught Jim's protruding lower lip between his teeth and tugged on it slightly. When he released it, Jim crushed their mouths together, licking his way into John's, both of them giving off slightly breathy moans. When John tried to pull away, Jim curled his fingers into John's hair and yanked his head back, plunging his tongue deeper and working it against John's.

"Jim." John said breathlessly, somehow managing to break the kiss. "I really have to eat something. I'm going to pass out and that's not just from the skillfulness of your tongue."

"You can eat me." Jim offered, trying to capture John's lips again but John evaded him.

"I need real sustenance." John amended, pulling away. Jim let out a high-pitched whine but let John go. They both took their seats, Jim supporting an impressive erection through his silk trousers. Jim took his napkin, snapping it in the air to unfold it and then placing it gently in his lap. John did the same but without the dramatic flourish.

John took the lid off his tray to find a thick cut piece of steak, medium rare while Jim's was bloody. Jim ate his quickly, cutting his steak so roughly that his knife scraped against the plate. John ate slowly, knowing that if he ate too fast on an empty stomach, he would only make himself sick. They listened to the opera playing and talked about nothing in particular. Jim scooted his foot over and began rubbing it against John's leg, pushing his trousers up and down.

"So I suppose the 'no sharing a meal together' embargo has been lifted?" John said trying to concentrate on anything other than Jim playing footsie under the table.

"Hmm." Jim replied noncommittally.

A plain looking, almost indescribable man came and cleared their plates away, leaving two plates of Crème Brulee in their place. John broke the shell of his and took a bite. "Oh god, that's good." John practically moaned. He was already mostly full from dinner but he could make room. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper meal that wasn't served in takeaway cartons.

He stopped eating, spoon in the air and halfway to his mouth, when he felt something against the crotch of his trousers. It took a moment to identify it as a foot. Jim had removed his shoe and was rubbing his foot up and down against John's groin, big toe doing little circles.

"What are you doing?" John asked replacing his spoon back onto his plate.

"Nothing." Jim replied innocently, beginning to rub harder. John let out a tiny whimper and pushed his seat back to get away from the groping appendage.

"God, you can't even let me finish a meal without molesting me." John shook his head, chuckling with amusement.

"You're wearing the suit again." Jim had his head lowered, staring at John through his eyelashes with a very predatory look.

"You told me to." John shrugged.

"That I did." Jim got up from his seat and walked slowly around the table, his eyes never leaving John. John didn't know what usually came after dessert but he had a feeling he was it. Jim slid sideways onto his lap, wrapping his arms around John's neck. The following kiss was heated and urgent, hungry and just slightly painful. John was gasping and half-hard by the time Moriarty finally released his lips.

"You really went all out for this." John said breathlessly as Jim kissed down his neck, nibbling at his skin. "I would have been fine with something delivered to your flat."

"I don't do anything half-way Johnny." Jim murmured against his throat biting down on it playfully. "When I woo someone, I do it right."

"Is that what you're doing?" John giggled, placing on hand on the small of Jim's back, the other resting on his upper thigh. "Wooing me?"

"Obviously." Jim scoffed, nimble fingers beginning to loosen John's tie.

"I've never been wooed before." John said as Jim started unbuttoning his shirt, bending his head awkwardly to kiss the exposed flesh.

"I've never wooed anyone before." Jim said lifting his head to meet John's eyes. "It's like we're virgins." He whispered against John's ear.

John snorted, one side of his mouth quirking up into a lopsided grin. He moved his hand up and down Jim's thigh, stroking it tenderly. He tilted his head to catch Jim's lips in a searing kiss, hand fisting into the back of Jim's expensive suit jacket.

Both their chests were heaving as they pulled away, lips swollen and bearing teeth marks. "I think I'll keep you." Jim said against John's lips. John smiled in response brought their lips back together again. Their usual battle over control of the kiss was waged until Jim conceeded to John. They were devouring each other while John's fingers dug into Jim's thigh, all tenderness gone, replaced by pure lust.

"Oh God, just fuck me already." Jim groaned, wiggling on John's lap, causing enough friction to drive John insane. He hopped down off John's lap, grabbing the tablecloth and tugging. It slipped off the table in one swift movement, leaving everything else perfectly intact.

"You would know how to do that." John smiled, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, sliding it off and placing it on the back of his chair along with his jacket.

"Impressed?"

"Very."

Jim laid the tablecloth down onto the rooftop. It was a fairly thin, deep maroon color but at least it was something. Besides both their bodies were radiating heat, John couldn't imagine he'd be cold. "You know," John made his way over and began flicking open the buttons on Jim's shirt one handed, the other reaching over the cup his arse. "For a psychotic criminal, you really are very nice to me."

"Would you prefer that I be cruel?" Jim asked slipping his fingers into John's hair and tugging at it slightly. John went willingly, letting Jim kiss him again as John pulled Jim's shirt out of his trousers.

"Not at all. Simply making an observation."

"You think I'm nice now, just you wait. I could be good to you Johnny, I could be so good." Jim said pushing his hips against John's, making them both gasp.

"Now there's something I'd like to see." John said almost as a challenge.

The rest of their clothes were removed quickly, hands flying and yanking in an attempt to get naked in haste. They eased down onto the ground, lips together and arms wrapped around each other. John slipped one of his thighs in between Jim's, apply just a slight pressure to his erection.

"Johnny!" Jim cried out, clawing at John's back. "Don't tease me, I've been hard through the entire meal."

"That's my wanton little slut." John curled his fist around Jim's cock and gave it a few quick pumps. Jim arched up into it, pushing his hips up to get more of John's fist. "Always so greedy."

  
"Yes Johnny. I'm a selfish little whore. Fuck me good Johnny. Take me."

"Lubricant?"

"Behind the speaker." Jim's eyes flickered over to indicate where it was. John reached behind the speaker, still blasting opera music. He slicked up his fingers, not bothering with delicacy as he shoved two into Jim straight away. He worked his fingers in and out in time to the slow music until Jim was writhing against the roof, grinding his hips down to fuck himself on John's digits.

"Johnnnnny…" Jim almost howled John's name as he crooked his fingers and stroked Jim's prostate relentlessly.

John sat back on his heels and quickly lubed up his prick with his unoccupied hand. In on fluid motion, his fingers came out and were instantly replaced with his cock going in. Jim wrapped his legs around him, pushing John closer and deeper. "Christ." John swore when he was buried completely inside that tight heat. He rocked his hips, eliciting a keening noise from the consulting criminal.

He set the pace, thrusting in with even beats, Jim pushing down against him. Their bodies crashed together over and over until John was so close while Jim was chanting his name over and over, clutching him by the shoulders. John snaked his hand down to grasp Jim's cock, stroking it in time to his thrusts.

"Not yet, not yet!" Jim said desperately. John tried to hang on, thinking of the least sexy things he could think of and placing his hand back on the tablecloth.

He had no idea what they were waiting for until the music swelled and a burst of light appeared above his head, followed by a loud crack. "Surprise!" Jim shouted happily as another firework lit up the sky.

John's movement ceased as he watched in awe. The fireworks were exploding directly above them, following the beats of the music. He looked down at Jim who was beaming up at him. He blinked a few times, unable to process until he smashed his lips against Jim's. "You're a bloody marvel." He said gazing at the madman underneath him in disbelief.

"I told you, when I woo someone, I do it right." Jim rocked his hips, signaling that he wanted John to start moving again.

"How did you manage to get bloody fireworks?" John asked as he starting to find his earlier rhythm.

"I can be very persuasive."

"Please tell me no one was killed just so you could give me fireworks."

"No, nothing like that. Just some light bribery." Jim answered with a smirk.

John moved quicker, thrusting into his lover with abandon, eyes moving between Jim's face and the fireworks above them. When he was getting close, he wrapped his fist back around Jim's cock and stroked him, trying to get them off at the same time. Jim came first, back arched, his eyes rolling back into his head. His scream of John's name drowned out by the crackling of the fireworks.

John followed almost instantly, coming hard and deep while his face contorted with ecstasy. He came longer than he could ever remember, wondering if it would ever stop. When he was finally finished, he eased out and wrapped Jim up in his arms, pulling part of the tablecloth over to cover them. They watched the rest of the fireworks cuddled together on the rooftop with John placing soft kisses to the nape of Jim's neck.

"I can't believe you did that." John said when the fireworks ended and there was still smoke in the sky.

"I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for you." Jim said rolling over so they were face to face.

"So what are we now? We've eaten together so…" he trailed off, not sure if he'd sound ridiculous if he asked if they were a couple.

"Not sure." Jim answered, reaching up and running his fingers through John's hair. "I just know I want you. I want to own you. Make you mine. I already have your body, but I want your mind, your soul, your heart. I want it all Johnny, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I want to claim you, brand my name into your skin so everyone knows who you belong to."

"And will this ownership go both ways?" John asked, thumb tracing Jim's lower lip. "Will I get to own you?"

"Don't be stupid Johnny." Jim chastised. John opened his mouth to protest but Jim silenced him by slipping his tongue into John's mouth. They kissed lazily for a few moments until Jim pulled away. His eyes locked on John's, the intensity of the stare making John shiver. The corners of Jim's mouth turned slightly upwards into the faintest smile. "You already do."


	8. Chapter 8

John spent the night at Jim's. Mostly because Jim asked but also because after the night they'd had, John couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be. It was dangerous thinking, but since Jim had said the closest thing to an "I love you" that John assumed the psychopath could get, he wasn't exactly worried. He'd already enjoyed spending time with Jim. He wouldn't have continued whatever this was for so long if he didn't, but he'd never expected to enjoy it so much.

As they entered Jim's flat, John was struck by how familiar this all was to him. He'd been here enough times to know where most things were even though he spent most of his time in the bedroom. They kissed each other unhurriedly, taking turns pushing each other up against various walls or surfaces. Their clothes were shed slowly, taking each other apart piece by piece.

They tumbled together onto the sofa, shirts unbuttoned but trousers still on. Jim's shoes were off while John still was wearing one of his, unsure where the other had gotten off to. He slid his body against Jim's, their erections rubbing together through the fabric of their trousers. John's lips trailed down Jim's throat then further down his pale chest until he attached himself to one of Jim's nipples. Jim bucked against him repeatedly, pushing up off the sofa.

"Johnny." Jim tried to get his attention, running his fingers through John's hair. John ignored him and instead licked a stripe across his chest to his other nipple, giving it a small flick of his tongue. "Johnny!" Jim said louder.

"Yes?" John murmured against his chest, mouthing his way down towards Jim's navel.

"I –oh god – I think you should –oh fuck – move in."

John froze, tongue hanging out of his mouth and dipping into Jim's belly button. He pulled it back into his mouth and blinked at the man beneath him.

"With me." Jim added as if that part not be clear.

"Jim." John said crawling back up his body. He nipped playfully at his chin, hand stroking his side. He buried his face in the crook of Jim's neck and began nuzzling. "We just decided this was more than sex and you want me to move in with you?"

"Why not?" Jim shrugged as if this were perfectly logical.

"We'd drive each other mad." John reasoned, thrusting his hips to grind them against Jim's.

"Oh come on, we could fight and shag all the time. It'd be brilliant."

"That's your idea of brilliant?"

"I could wake up every morning to the sound of your heartbeat."

"Don't you think it's a little soon?"

"I said I want to own you, I meant it. How am I supposed to do that when you're usually halfway across London?"

"You don't think you'd get bored of me, having me here all the time?" John asked, rolling his hips sinuously. Their conversation was interrupted by both of their uncontrollable moaning as John continued to rut against him slowly.

"I want you. Here. With me." The sentence came out broken as he groaned between words. The sounds he was making were low and visceral and went straight to John's groin, making him begin leaking.

"I like my flat."

"What with the awful wallpaper and the uncaring flatmate?" Jim asked dryly. John bit down on his neck hard in retaliation for the comment.

"I'd be trading one mad genius flatmate for another. At least my current one doesn't have homicidal tendencies."

" _You_ have homicidal tendencies Doctor." Jim reminded him, slipping his hand under the back of John's trousers and gripping is ass.

"All the more reason I probably shouldn't move in. You'd be a terrible influence."

"I'm already a terrible influence."

"Jim, is this really what you want to be discussing right this moment?" John asked, ridiculously close to coming in his trousers like a teenager. It seemed this conversation was doing nothing to distract his libido.

"Sometimes I think about shutting you in a box, hiding you away from the world. Make sure I'm the only one who gets to take you out and play with you. My very own Johnny-in-a-box." Jim confessed, giving John's arse a squeeze.

"What a frightening idea."

"I don't do sentiment, Johnny."

John blinked a few times, confused by the turn in conversation. He assumed that had been a logical progression for Jim but John wasn't following. "I haven't asked you to."

"But you expect it. You'll never give yourself over to me completely unless you know I can share the same affections."

"Jim, you not being in love with me isn't the reason I'm saying no. In fact I'm not saying no, I'm saying too soon. Ask me again sometime. I may not know what we are but I know who you are, I'm not expecting you to be someone different for me." John said, stilling his hips and staring into those deep, endless brown eyes.

"I could be." Jim said running his hands slowly down John's back. His eyes flickered down, appraisingly before snapping back up to meet John's. "I could be anyone you want me to be."

  
"Jim Moriarty." John replied instantly. "Just be Jim Moriarty."

Jim frowned, gripping John and rolling them awkwardly on the sofa so Jim was on top. He started tearing at John's trousers, desperate to get them open. "So you want Jim Moriarty? You want me? You don't know the real me Johnny."

"Jim." John groaned as Jim grasped his cock and began pumping it roughly. John clung to his shoulders, slightly frightened by the manic look in Jim's eye.

"You have no idea what Moriarty is, what I can do." Jim emphasized this by biting down hard on John's shoulder.

"Jim." John repeated, slightly more threatening this time. He used his hold on Jim's shoulders to roll them again. They fell off the couch, John landing on top of Jim, quickly pinning the other man's arms over his head. "And who's the real you then? The man I met at the pool or the one who was with me up on that roof tonight?"

"Both." Jim snarled viciously. "I have many faces John, do not expect to know them all."

"And which is the one that wants to claim me? That enjoys listening to my heartbeat? Who is it I own?" John shouted, pulling Jim's hands up and then slamming them back against the floor.

"Me!" Jim hollered, breaking John's hold on him and turning them again so John was on his back. "It doesn't matter which mask I put on, each and every one of them is yours, they're yours Johnny, I'm yours. You could do anything you fucking wanted to me and I'd simply say thank you!"

"Jim, calm down."

"Why?" Jim practically screamed. "Don't like this mask? You think I might hurt you? Or is this finally the real me you're seeing? Maybe what happened on the roof was just a facade and this is who I truly am. A wild, madman who is so desperately in love with you that he can't think straight, can't think of anything else."

John froze, the weight of what Jim had just said settling between them. Jim had clamped his mouth shut with an audible snap, teeth grinding together to keep him from saying anything more but the damage was already done. John flipped them again, taking the upper hand.

"Don't play games with me." John said through gritted teeth.

"Never."

"Why did you just say that?"

"Say what?" Jim feigned ignorance, eyes darting away.

"You know what!" John shouted in aggravation.

"I didn't mean it." Jim said in an attempt to backtrack quickly.

"You're in love with me?" John asked incredulously.

"I. Didn't. Mean. It."

"Stop it, just… " John took a deep breath before continuing. "Just tell me the truth."

Jim's eyes narrowed, scowling up at him and for a moment they just stared each other down. John gave up first and pushed himself up off the floor, sitting against the sofa, breathing heavily and not looking at Jim. Jim bit his bottom lip and then crawled over, sliding into John's lap, straddling his hips. He buried his face in the hollow of John's neck and breathed deeply, breathed in John.

"Yes." He said barely above a whisper. "Yes. I meant it. I love you. Please Johnny. I'm yours. I'm yours. Only yours."

John couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He closed his eyes and listened to Jim mumble the same phrase over and over. The idea that the world's leading criminal mastermind was in love with him was terrifying and more than a little daunting. The psychopath was an uncontrollable mess, clinging to John as if he let go he would simply melt away. John wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. He considered running away screaming.

How could this have possibly happened? Jim was insisting this was nothing more than a physical relationship. John had been suspecting there was more to it than just sex for awhile now, thinking Jim was just in denial, but he had never expected this. He didn't know what to do, all thoughts escaping out of his brain. What could he possibly say? He had no idea if he felt the same way. If he said it without meaning it, would Jim know?

Instead he attacked. The assault on Jim's mouth was sloppy and wet. His tongue went everywhere, claiming Jim's mouth as his own. It demonstrated want although certainly not love. He wasn't sure if he was ready for love. But like, lust, want, need, those he could do, those he felt. So he showed him.

Jim kissed him back with just as much intensity. John threaded his fingers through Jim's hair and tried to pull him deeper, closer, into his skin, as if that would be enough. "Fuck me." He breathed against Jim's lips. "I need you to fuck me now."

Jim wasted no time getting to his feet and then pulled John up as well. They practically sprinted to the bedroom, Jim clutching John's hand in his. Once inside, he crushed John against the door and kissed him again. John undid the cuffs of his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders before doing the same to Jim. His trousers were already open from earlier so he kicked off his remaining shoe and then pushed them down.

He backed them up towards the bed and pushed Jim down onto it before climbing on top of him. Jim smirked wickedly and watched with heavy-lidded eyes as John tore his trousers open. They were pulled off in one quick movement and discarded on the floor, followed quickly by Jim's pants. John grabbed the lube from the nightstand and slicked up Jim's cock while biting at his lips.

"Need you. Now." John growled, getting on his hands and knees. Jim looked somewhat surprised but moved to position himself behind him. John couldn't do this face to face, couldn't let Jim see the doubt he was sure was in his eyes. Jim trailed his finger through the lube on his prick and circled his finger around John's entrance.

"I'm fine, just do it." John barked, barely turning his head to glance over his shoulder.

Jim didn't need to be told twice. John felt the blunt head of Jim's cock pressed up against him and then it breached him. "Fuck." John said slowly in a low moan. Jim entered him in one smooth, slow glide. It stung a bit as John was stretched open to compensate for the thickness of Jim's cock. He dropped his head and waited, taking deep breaths.

Jim stayed buried deep, not moving except for his hands running along John's back. Jim circled his hips, cock rubbing against John's sweet spot over and over but not pushing out or in, just stretching John more and more, making him gasp and moan. When Jim finally pulled back, sliding out, John was expecting a thrust in. Instead Jim pulled all the way out and John groaned at the loss.

"Turn over." Jim said, guiding John with his hands. John reluctantly flipped onto his back. Jim took his time penetrating him again. His lips and hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of John's body.

John was a sweaty, writhing mess by the time Jim finally sunk back into him. John wrapped his legs around him while Jim set the pace. He was going slow but it was the opposite of what John wanted. He wanted brutal, he wanted painful. "Harder." John growled, putting his hands up against the headboard and pushing down against him.

Jim moved harder, bottoming out on each thrust but didn't move any faster. John threw his head back in frustration. He dropped his hands from the headboard and instead gripped Jim's arse, digging in and pushing him harder and faster. He was punishing himself and he knew it. He wanted Jim to fuck him rough for not feeling the same way.

"Come on." He almost shouted when Jim refused to do what he wanted. He gripped Jim's arsecheeks hard, pushing himself down in an attempt to get it. "Fuck me. Come on."

Jim didn't reply, stubbornly moving at his own pace. John rolled his eyes, sighing in frustration. Jim moved his hips languidly, slipping in and out so slowly that it was maddening. Not sure how else to get the point across, John raised his arm and slapped Jim roughly across the face. Jim's eyes widened in shock and he retaliated by a sharp thrust.

"That's the ticket." John moaned, finally getting what he wanted. Jim thrust in hard a few times and then slowed his pace back down. John fisted his hand into Jim's hair and tugged it roughly. Jim snarled and started slamming into him again.

"Yes." John hissed, loving the overwhelming pleasure and pain enveloping him. "One way or another you are going to fuck me that way I want to be fucked."

Any time Jim tried to slow down, John would hit him, pinch him, prod him, bite him, anything to keep up his punishing thrusts. John wrapped his fist around his dick and wanked himself furiously, tugging at himself roughly. Jim came suddenly, orgasm overtaking him with John's name on his lips. John used his moment of disorientation to flip them over so John was straddling him. He rode Jim through his orgasm, still stroking himself.

He continued rolling his hips, fucking himself on Jim's rapidly softening penis, thrusting into his own fist. "John, stop, stop, stop." Jim begged as John kept Jim's cock inside him, clenching around his oversensitive shaft. A few more twisting pulls and John came all over Jim, finally letting his dick slide free from his hole.

Jim shoved him away, grabbing his arm and wrenching it behind his back. He pushed John face down against the bed and held him. "You think I don't know what that was?" Jim sneered, pushing John's arm up further, making shocks of pain ripple through him. "Who exactly do you think you're dealing with?"

"Well I don't know, do I?" John shot back angrily. "Which version are you now?"

"You feel guilty that you don't love me." Jim said calmly, ignoring the question.

"Can you blame me? There's so many sides of you Jim, I never know which one I'm going to get. I love parts of you yes, but I don't love all of you." John said it so quickly that it was only after he'd spoke that he realized how true it was.

"Hmm." Jim said pensively, thinking it over. He let John's arm go and started mouthing his way down John's spine. "But you want all of me."

"Yes."

Jim licked back up for a moment and then continued down, stopping a moment to nibble at the small of John's back before descending lower. He bit John's bottom hard, making John arch up from the bed.

"What are you doing?" John asked, gasping for air.

"You got what you wanted, now it's time for me to get what I want." Jim replied, using his thumbs to spread John's cheeks and before John could even form a protest, Jim lowered his head and began licking.

"Oh God." John moaned, clenching his arse and felt some of the come leak out. Jim lapped at it, strong tongue running against the cleft of John's arse and then lower to his perineum to get more that had dribbled down. "Fuck Jim."

Jim moved back towards John's pucker, still red and slightly sore from the rough fuck.. He formed his lips around it and started to suck. John tried to move away but Jim held him in place, sucking harder.

"Oh buggering fuck Jim, what are you doing?" John groaned, wanting to be disgusted but it felt so unlike anything else. It was so strange, so much, too much.

"I did tell you I was going to suck my come out of you one of these times." Jim said after he'd pulled away. He bit down on John's bottom again and then went back to his opening, pushing his tongue into John's stretched hole and swirling it.

"Jesus Christ." John fisted his hands in the sheets underneath him, blood starting to rush to his groin in a sad attempt to get hard again. This should not have been turning him on but from the way he was humping the mattress, trying to get friction against his cock, he knew that wasn't the case. He'd never done anything so filthy in bed before and his mind was reeling from the idea of it. He probed deep inside John, making the other man writhe against the sheets. John was whimpering uncontrollably as Jim fucked him with his tongue. He wanted to tell Jim how disgusting it was but from his body's reaction, it was anything but. 

Jim slipped his tongue out, gave on final suck, another bite to his arse and then sat up. "You're absolutely mad." John said rolling over onto his back, his words carrying no weight when he showed Jim just how hard he was.

Jim smirked. "Enjoyed that?"

"What do you think?" John asked, spreading his legs farther apart.

"I think you liked it very much." Jim said sliding in between his legs until he was hovering just over John's cock.

"I did." John said, tilting his hips up suggestively. Jim lowered his face and started mouthing his way down John's length, placing sucking kissing along the shaft. "Jim, fucking hell." John said, already throbbing with need. He'd never had such a short turn around rate in his life. 

Jim moved lower, taking one of John's balls into his mouth and tugging slightly. John moaned and spread his arms, both of them clutching at the sheets. Jim let the heavy bollocks slip from his mouth and pressed his lips against the other one. "Jim, fuck, oh god, fuck." John's legs were shaking, his cock swollen with arousal.

"You know, I'm not sure you deserve this." Jim said doing tiny licks up the underside of John's shaft. "I was nice enough to fall in love with you and you couldn't even be bothered to do the same."

John was steadily leaking precome as Jim dropped his head onto John's thigh, staring up at him with those giant brown eyes, breathing against his aching prick. "Why don't you love me Johnny?" Jim asked wistfully.

"Jim, please."

"Is it because I kill people for a living?"

"That's part of it, yes."

"Is it because of Sherlock?"

"No." John said frowning, lips formed into a tight, thin line.

"Then what?" Jim asked, licking his finger and brushing it over John's nipple.

"You said – _fuckfuckfuck_  – that this was just sex so I –ohgodohgod –wasn't thinking – _holyfuckingchrist –_ in those terms." John confessed as Jim licked his thumb and first finger on his other hand and started trailing them up and down John's cock, thumb circling the head.

"And now?" Jim asked moving closer and rubbing his nose against John's hip.

"I need time, Jim. It's not just a switch I can flip on. I'll get there, you just have to give me time. But for all the shagging we've been doing, I don't actually know you all that well."

"I suppose not." Jim conceded, thumb smearing the precome that had gathered over the head of John's dick. "I guess it'll have to do for now."

Jim raised his head and finally, finally, took John into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the head and then sucked it hard. John's vision went white for a moment and he blinked, trying to clear it. Jim swallowed him down swiftly and then hallowed his cheeks, sucking even harder as he slowly, so slowly, pulled back off. He repeated the process and John wove his fingers through Jim's hair, holding on for dear life.

"Oh fuck, oh god." John moaned as Jim took him deep and hummed around his cock. John couldn't help the small thrust of his hips, plunging himself even deeper inside the wet heat of Jim's mouth. Jim started working him in earnest, tongue moving against the underside. He moved his hand down and cradled John's sack, cupping it in his hand.

"Jiiiiiimmmm." John howled as he came, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into his lover's mouth. Jim took what he could but some of it escaped down his chin. After he swallowed, Jim stuck his tongue out and licked away what he'd missed. "Oh God." John said curling up into himself.

"You can call me Jim." He said with a wry smile, curling up behind John and fitting his body against him. John started giggling, mostly from exhaustion. "You know." Jim said conversationally, running his hand up and down John's side. "The last time I fell in love with someone who didn't love me back, I killed them."

  
John's whole body tensed and he swallowed hard. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You said you wanted to get to know me." Jim shrugged against him. "I'm not threatening you, although I can see how you might take it that way."

"Wow, with pillow talk like this, it's a wonder I haven't fallen madly in love with you." John said sarcastically, rolling onto his back.

Jim opened his mouth to retort but John brushed his lips against his, just slightly before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him down. Jim laid half on top of him, one of his legs thrown over John's. His ear was pressed against John's chest, listening to his ever-calming heartbeat. He grabbed the duvet and threw it over them.

"Go to sleep." John mumbled, eyes already closed. "You can get to work on making me fall in love with you in the morning. I'm sure you'll fix it for me."


	9. Chapter 9

John awoke the next morning to the sound of running water and Jim singing in the shower. He really had to piss so he was fairly relieved when he went to the bathroom and saw that the door was unlocked. He was almost finished relieving himself when Jim stopped singing, pulling the curtain back with his head full of shampoo.

"If you were planning on joining me, you're a bit late." Jim said massaging his scalp. He watched avidly as John finished, eyes drawn to where John was holding himself. 

"I wasn't." John said walking over and giving Jim a quick kiss. "And you're getting water all over the floor." He added before shutting the curtain.

"Ugh, brush your teeth, you taste horrible." Jim shouted over the shower.

"Toothbrush?"

"Extra one behind the mirror." Jim replied and promptly went back to humming. John instantly recognized it as "Another One Bites the Dust" and shook his head, unable to stop the lopsided grin forming on his face. He opened the mirror to find a brand new toothbrush, still in the package. He wondered if Jim had bought it for him, assuming he'd spend the night again, or if it was just something he'd already had.

When he finished brushing, he left Jim to finish his shower. He didn't want to put his suit back on but it was too cold to walk around naked. Instead he rifled through Jim's drawers until he found a t-shirt and drawstring bottoms he thought would fit. They were both probably rather loose on Jim but on him they were quite snug. The trousers were cashmere and rested easily on his hips. The shirt was plain white cotton and was long enough to cover him but pulled tight across his chest. He grabbed the dressing gown Jim had somewhat given him and slid it on.

He'd never actually cooked in Jim's flat before but the kitchen was pretty straightforward and stocked with all the ingredients. First things first, he put the kettle on the boil. Then he fished out a few eggs and bacon from the fridge. It took him a few cupboards to find the one that held the frying pan, but he eventually did. While he cooked, he made sure to keep an eye on the clock, knowing he had a shift at the surgery today.

"Hmm." Jim said slipping his arms around John. He was still slightly damp from the shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Can you keep your hands to yourself? I'm trying to cook." John asked half-heartedly as he tried to concentrate on flipping the bacon.

"You're wearing my clothes." Jim noted, moving one hand up and lazily rubbing John's nipple while the other moved lower to just above the waistband of his trousers. "Are you trying to get me hard?"

"It was all I could find."

"Hmm." Jim hummed against John's neck, rubbing his crotch against the back of John's leg. "You know, no one's cooked me breakfast since my mum died."

"Oh, I'm sorry." John offered his condolences.

"Don't be, I was the one who killed her." Jim said running his hand up and down John's hipbone.

"Is it time for more creepy storytime with Jim?" John asked, turning his head just slightly to look at him.

"If you don't want to hear…"

"No, it's fine." John said leaning into him slightly. "I want to know. Go on."

"Well, it was self-defense if that makes you feel better. You remember hearing about Carl Powers, right?"

"Yeah, you killed him too."

"He was awful to me. I suppose no one at school exactly _liked_  me but no one hated me the way he did. He used to wait for me after school just so he could hurt me. Sometimes he'd bring friends, sometimes it was just him and me." Jim ghosted his lips against John's cheek, making him shiver. He had no idea how Jim could still be touching him like this when he was reliving such a painful memory but Jim didn't stop.

"That's terrible."

"I used to come home bleeding and bruised. My mum would clean me up and I'd tell her I was going to kill Carl. She thought it was just an empty threat. Then little Carl died. Everyone thought it was just an accident but good old mummy knew better. I'd always been a bit strange, quiet, unnerving. I used to spend hours in my room just reading, didn't go outside and play like the other kids. I used to collect bugs, big ugly ones that I would keep in jars in my room. So she thought there was something off about me but it wasn't until Carl died that she finally knew for certain. Finally figured out my threats weren't so empty after all. That night she tried to smother me with a pillow in my sleep."

John couldn't help the tiny gasp that escaped from his lips. Jim moved his hands up to John's stomach and pulled him in tighter against him.

"Good thing she was weak or she might have succeeded. I managed to get her off me and I ran away. I spent the night in the park, hiding underneath the slide. I went home the next day when she was out, waited in the closet at the top of the stairs. I heard her footsteps so I popped out and pushed her down them. She broke her neck. I called the police and claimed she tripped. When the police came, I had my mask firmly in place. I was sitting on the steps by her body, rocking and crying and putting on a good show for them. No one even thought for a second that it wasn't an accident."

"Jesus, how old were you?"

"Must have been about twelve. I went to go live with my grandmother. I liked living with her, she left me alone. Her house smelled like the dead."

"What about your father?"

"Oh didn't I tell you? I'm a bastard, literally. Daddy fucked mummy and left her to raise me on her own. I ruined her life apparently although I don't think she would have had much of one if I hadn't come along anyway."

"God I'm…that's terrible." John turned in Jim's arms and embraced him. For a few moments they just held each other. John gently stroked the hair at the nape of Jim's neck, trying to be soothing.

"The food's going to burn." Jim said tonelessly, pulling away.

"Right." John nodded and went back to cooking while Jim went over to the kettle and finished making the tea.

They were silent as they finished cooking breakfast. It was only broken when John asked where the plates where. They sat on opposite sides of the kitchen table and ate quietly while John racked his brain for something to say. He wasn't sure if it was Jim's story or the hug that had made things awkward but he could feel it between them. He wanted to say something to make it right or better but nothing was coming to mind.

"Have I frightened you off?" Jim asked stabbing at his eggs.

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Hardly." Jim grumbled, bringing his cup to his lips.

John clenched his jaw, threw his silver-wear onto his plate, grabbed his cup and carried them over to the chair next to Jim's. He placed them down and sat, pulling the chair in and then looked over. "Better?" he asked, picking his fork back up.

Jim put his arm around the back of John's chair and leaned in. They kissed deeply for a moment before John broke away and took a sip of his tea. Jim took a rather vicious bite of his bacon, tearing at it with his teeth and then got up off his chair. John barely had time to put his cup back in its saucer before Jim was easing onto his lap.

"Jim, I have to go to work soon." John informed him. Jim hadn't even started doing anything yet but John knew where this was headed.

"No, you need to stay." Jim grabbed his wrists and held them against the armrests of his chair.

"Seriously Jim, I've got to go."

"Are you sure about that?" Jim freed his wrists and slowly ran his hands up John's arms until they settled on his shoulders.

"Yes."

"Completely?"  
"Yes."

"Oops." Jim said pulling his towel off and letting it drop to the floor.

"Jim." He groaned in desperation, knowing this was a battle was quickly losing. "I really can't miss work. I still have to go home and change. I have to leave."

"That's what your lips are saying but your cock is saying something else entirely." Jim said, his finger tracing the outline of John's dick through his trousers. Sure enough the blood was rapidly rushing downwards despite everything he was saying. Jim was smirking triumphantly and John grabbed the back of his head and forced their lips together to get him to stop. Jim broke away and looked down at the bulge at John's crotch. "Look at your cock, it's begging for it."

"God, don't use that voice." John pleaded, dropping his head back against his seat.

"What voice?"

"That voice! That low, breathy, come hither voice."

"I don't know what voice you mean." Jim responded, leaning forward so his lips were brushing against John's ear. His voice was a low rumble, almost a deep whisper that sent shivers through John. "But if you want me to stop talking I can always occupy my mouth elsewhere."

Jim pressed the heel of his palm against John's erection. "Oh Jesus." John cried out, unsure how Jim could be naked and him fully clothed and yet he was the one falling the pieces. He was gulping in a large lungfuls of air, his heart racing while Jim was calm, only half hard and grinning wickedly. He must have known his affect and was relishing in it.

"Look at that, you're leaking." Jim kept talking in that voice and John was a complete mess, two seconds away from begging for it. "I think your cock wants me to suck you off. It's saying 'Please Johnny, I want to stay. I want to come. I want Jim to blow me and then come all over his face."

"Christ." John keened, thankful that he was sitting down because he was fairly certain his knees would have given out at that point.

"You still want to go?" Jim asked, already knowing the answer.

"You don't fight fair." John growled angrily.

"Of course I don't." Jim replied, licking his lips and smacking them together that sounded almost pornographic. "I would say this is for you but the truth is I love, I absolutely love going down on you. That first time in the alley, when you pushed me down onto my knees. It was so incredibly hot, watching you take control like that. Seeing the little bit of soldier still left in you. Nobody has ever spoken to me like that before, well at least not recently without being punished. It was unbelievably sexy and it's why I couldn't get you out of my head, why I had to come back for more. I love watching you unravel from nothing more than my mouth on you. And to think, I thought you were boring."

John frowned, about to say something back but Jim had slithered to the floor and was tugging the drawstring bottoms down then off. He hummed appreciatively as he was face to face with John's prick. He gave the tip a small lick and then pulled back, slipping two of his fingers into his mouth and sucking them, slipping them in and out of his mouth obscenely, staring at John the whole time.

He let them slide free from his mouth and pulled John down by his hips, throwing his legs over Jim's shoulders. He pushed his fingers inside John first while he buried his face against his groin, nose rubbing against the patch of hair between his legs. "God, that smell. It's intoxicating." He moaned as his spit slick fingers pumped in and out slowly. He placed sucking, open mouth kisses along John's shaft until he pressed his lips to the tip, licking away the salty precome.

"Bloody hell." John gasped as Jim swallowed him down, his mouth working in opposition to his fingers. John was slumped down in his chair with no choice but to hold on. It didn't take long before he was hovering on the brink of orgasm. He stayed suspended there for a moment and fisted his hand in Jim's hair.

"I'm coming." He warned. "God, I'm coming."

He had never finished so quickly, at least not since he was a teenager and couldn't hold his load. To his surprise, Jim pulled off and John's come shot over his face, coating his lips and chin. "Holy shit." John scrubbed his hand over his face and dropped his legs down. "You're a mess." He chuckled, looking at Jim's come-stained face. Jim simply smiled and licked his lips. John shook his head at how ridiculous the consulting criminal looked and leaned forward, cleaning away the rest with his tongue and lips.

Jim grabbed John by the shirt and pulled him down, both of them falling to the floor. "My turn." Jim said before rolling his hips, rutting against John's thigh. He attached his lips to John's neck.

"You know you can have more than my leg."

"No time." Jim mumbled quickly, moving faster against him, cock hot and throbbing against his skin. John reached down and cupped Jim's bottom, helping him with the movements.

"How have I never noticed how flat your arse is?" John commented, trying to grab it but there was hardly anything to hold onto.

"Well you've got enough of one for the two of us." Jim shot back, nipping at John's ear.

John laughed and put his free hand up to Jim's face, guiding it towards his own. Jim moaned against his lips and came, his release spilling against John's thigh. Jim rolled off him and sat up, reaching for a tea towel on the counter and cleaning John and himself off before laying back on him.

"Satisfied?" John slurred, ready to drop into a post-orgasmic stupor.

"Very."

"Good." John forced himself to sit up and then onto his feet. Jim pouted up at him from the floor. "Don't give me that look, if I take a very quick shower and rush home to change, I might not be too late."

John pulled on his trousers and headed towards the bathroom. Jim jumped to his feet and followed him. John was just walking past the bed when Jim tackled him and they tumbled into it together. "Jim, I'm really not kidding. I have to go."

"No, stay."

"I can't!"

"Come on, I have no clients, no plans. Who knows what I might get up to if you leave."

"That's coercion and you know it!"

"You think I'm above it? I like being distracted and you are just so, incredibly, diverting." Jim ran his hand down John's chest until he reached the bottom of his shirt and began pulling it up.

"Knock it off." John said batting his hand away. "I have to go to my job, you know something us normal, boring people have."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I knew you weren't going to let that go. I said you  _were_ boring, not that you  _are_ boring. First impressions darling, that's all. They don't mean much. I was a bit busy at the time and as you can tell, I've reassessed my thoughts since then. The point is, you're not boring, so why go to a dull mundane job?"

"Because I have bills to pay? I know my job isn't thrilling, that's why I solve crimes and date psychopaths in my spare time. Keeps things from getting dull."

"You could quit. I'll pay you double whatever they do, have you as my personal sex slave. Maybe chain you up in the basement."

"I think you actually would." John chuckled, running his fingers through Jim's hair.

"Oh, you know I would." Jim's eyes flashed with excitement at the idea. "Come on, just call in sick... or I could do it for you."

"Wow, you really want me to stay."

"I want to keep fucking you endlessly, over and over, which is difficult if you're not here." Jim said pushing his hips against John's.

"Christ, you're hard again. Seriously you have the turn around rate of a teenager."

"What can I say Johnny? You turn me on, get me all hot. The other day I fantasized about tying you to my bed and playing with you. I had to meet a client with a raging hard on. I think he got the wrong idea, thought I was attracted to him."

John snorted. "Good thing he didn't act on it or I might have gotten jealous." He lifted his head up and captured Jim's lips in a kiss. "I'm flattered that I have such an affect on you."

"You should be. You're very distracting and as I said, I have no plans for the day. I want you again and again, just spend the day fucking each other over every surface of my flat."

"That's ambitious."

"Extremely."

"You know…" John said pensively as he kissed Jim again. "If you were to tie me up like you wanted…" he interrupted himself with another kiss. "It would be very difficult…" he trailed his lips down Jim's jaw-line. "For me to go to work."

Jim's eyes lit up. "Oh Johnny, sometimes you are brilliant."

"Thank you." John said before Jim attacked his mouth again. He smiled against Jim's lips and then threw himself into the kiss, any protests or thoughts of going to work completely gone.

XXXX

"No, I'm afraid John can't come into work today, he's dreadfully ill. We tried a new seafood restaurant and I think he might have come down with food poisoning." Jim said making his voice as sad and regretful as possible while lying through his teeth.

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Jim, John's boyfriend. He asked me to call because the poor dear hasn't left the bathroom in hours. He might not be in tomorrow either." Jim turned to John and winked. John said something but it was muffled against his gag.

"Oh ok, well tell him I hope he gets better. Thank you for letting me now."

"Not a problem sweetheart. He'll be in just as soon as he's feeling better." Jim said hanging up the phone. He strode over to the nightstand and picked up his already lit cigarette that had been sitting in the ashtray. He took a deep drag and let it out slowly, his eyes roving over every inch of the naked army doctor he had tied to his bed with his lips stretched over a ball gag. "Now." He said taking another drag before crushing the cigarette out in the tray. His lips curled into a smile as the smoke escaped through his lips. "Who's your daddy?"

XXXX

John collapsed on top of Jim before he was even finished coming. He'd actually lost count of how many times they'd had sex in the past twenty-four hours but it must have been some kind of record. With some difficulty, he rolled off of his lover and buried his face in the pillow. Jim did the same next to him and for a moment they just stared at each other.

"So is this your brilliant plan? Shag me until I fall in love with you."

Jim gave a half-hearted shrug. "As far as plans go, it's not the worst I've heard."

"Well, I think I'm officially shagged out. My cock will probably be limp for weeks after this."

"Well that's no good." Jim said running his hand down John's back.

"I think you're too much for me." John said with a small smile.

"I thought you kept up admirably."

"Thanks, I guess."

Jim guided John onto his side and scooted in until they were flush against each other, chest to chest. Their legs twined as Jim laced his fingers through John's. "I want more of this." Jim confessed, placing soft kisses along John's collarbone. "I want more showers and shagging, waking up in your arms and having you cook me breakfast. Is this what it's supposed to be like?"

"Relationships? Yes normally. Although not everyone goes for the being tied up and gagged thing." John replied with a wry smile.

"I've never had that, any of it, well apart from the shagging bit."

"I sort of figured with your 'I don't date' thing."

"What is it about you?" Jim asked, staring at John as if he were a frustrating puzzle that Jim had been working on for hours. "You don't…make sense."

"If I made sense you'd still think I was boring and we wouldn't be here."

"I know, I know, it's just you treat me like a person, like I'm human."

"You are human." John said, confused.

  
"No one else thinks so."

"Well fuck everyone else, who cares what they think? Jim you don't…I'm the first person you've let in, let get close to you. It's no wonder no one knows you that well. I mean obviously the public image you put out has a lot to do with that. But it's all rumors and whispers. No one knows you the way I do, which means their opinion of you shouldn't matter."

"It doesn't." Jim countered defensively. "You're the only person whose opinion matters to me."

  
"Good. Then don't be confused when I treat you like a human being. You're not a monster Jim and I'm not going to treat you like one."

"I love you." Jim blurted out and then swallowed hard, closing his eyes for a moment. "I know, I know you're not going to say it back. I just needed to say it."

"It's fine. I like hearing it." John said with a smile, putting his finger up Jim's chin and lifting his head so their lips could meet. Their mouths worked in tandem, crashing together in waves. John broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Jim's. "I think I might possibly be starting to fall in love with you too."

"Really?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrow skeptically.

"I'm getting there." John promised, closing the gap between their lips again.

XXXX

Jim was bored, Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. His only client of the day had been frustratingly easy. Where were all the quality criminals lately? What happened to the smuggling rings? The serial killers? What had gotten into the criminal classes lately? He hadn't been involved in an assassination in what felt like forever.

Instead he started looking for a distraction,  _his_ distraction. After two days of nothing but John, now his entire flat felt empty without him. Jim hated it. So he went into his office and turned on the CCTV, doing a little hunt for the army doctor. He finally found him on the sidewalk, standing next to Sherlock, both of them staring down at a dead body.

John had on a button up shirt with a cashmere jumper over it. The light blue of the jumper brought out his eyes, his tired eyes Jim noted with some satisfaction. His jeans fit him rather perfectly and John turned slightly at that moment to say something to the DI, giving Jim a perfect view of that round arse. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and rapidly texted.

_You look so sexy right now –M_

John's phone buzzed in his pocket and he finished what he was saying before reaching into his pocket to get it. When he'd finished reading it, he glanced around, looking for any sign of Jim. The Consulting criminal smiled and waited for Johnny to catch on. Finally John's eyes landed on the CCTV camera across the street.

**Bit busy.**

_With what? Being a captive audience for Sherlock? –M_

**Piss off you wanker.**

Jim noticed that John was smiling and Jim couldn't help smiling back. He propped his feet up on the desk and switched all the screens so they showed him John.

_Look at all those people standing around, thinking you're an unassuming army doctor in his nice little jumper with no idea what's underneath. –M_

**My chest?**

_I was talking about your massive cock, but your chest is nice too. –M_

John snorted, interrupting Sherlock as he spouted off a list of deductions. He scowled at John before going back to what he was saying.

Ooo,  _Someone doesn't like that I've stolen your attention away. –M_

**That's because we're trying to solve a murder here.**

_Watch, the bridge of his nose is going to do that wrinkling thing –M_

Sure enough, as soon as John finished reading the text he glanced up at Sherlock and noticed his nose was wrinkled in distaste. John coughed to cover up his laughter and Sherlock's frown deepened. When John had composed himself he quickly typed out his reply.

**You're an arsehole.**

_But I'm your arsehole. When can I see you? –M_

**Looks like we're just about done here. Sherlock already solved it. Waste of time according to him.**

_Good, get your luscious arse over here and I'll let you spank me for being naughty –M_

**Is that a promise?**

_Only if you hurry –M_

**Getting a cab right now.**

John was starting to walk away when Sherlock grabbed his arm. They argued for a moment and Jim watched, glowering at the screen. They were standing so close and he could have cut the sexual tension with a knife, although he would much rather cut Sherlock's hand off for touching HIS John. As he leaned back in his chair, still watching the screen, he thought it was about time Sherlock learned what was and wasn't his. Time for him to find out what happened to people that touched things that were Jim's.


	10. Chapter 10

It was three in the morning and Jim was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up, contemplating the problem. He couldn't just force a confrontation with Holmes, no matter how much he wanted to. John had taken great pains to keep their relationship a secret from him and would most likely be angry if Jim just showed up at Baker street and told Sherlock the truth. He also couldn't just kill Sherlock, he supposed, because John probably wouldn't like that either. He couldn't do anything that would compromise his relationship with John. In the end, it would have to be something sneaky and Jim was good at schemes. So he started to plan.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to." John said standing behind his chair and running his hands down Jim's chest, slipping them underneath his dressing gown. Jim had been so lost in his head he hadn't even heard John come in. Jim turned his attention to John and in return he got one of John's lopsided grin. Jim was filled with a familiar ache that wasn't entirely painful but definitely intense. "Busy scheming? I'll leave you to it."

John turned to go and Jim's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist to stop him. "No, don't. Don't go." Jim winced at how pathetic he sounded. John nodded and closed the distance between them, ducking his head down to press his lips firmly against Jim's. Jim's arms encircled John's waist and felt his warmth from sleep. His hair was sticking in all directions and his eyes were fuzzy from sleep. Jim wished again that he had the chance to see John like this all the time, every morning, rumpled from sleep and sex. 

"Tea?" John murmured against Jim's lips.

"Don't you want to go back to bed?"

"Not unless you're joining me."

"Tea it is then."

John smiled before kissing him again. He pulled away and Jim kept his hand on him for as long as possible until their fingers drifted apart. Jim tried to work on his little problem but now his mind couldn't concentrate. All he could think of was John, in his kitchen, making him tea without expecting anything in return. Kissing John while he tasted like tea. Then his mind strayed to John doing the same for Sherlock, making him tea. John kissing Sherlock. The way Sherlock had grabbed John's arm possessively, not unlike the way Jim had just grabbed his wrist. Anger started boiling up inside him and he was up out of his seat in seconds, making his way to the kitchen.

He calmed down the moment he saw John standing in his kitchen, tapping his fingers on the counter while he waited for the kettle to boil. He grabbed John by the arm and spun him, swallowing the tiny gasp John made by crushing their mouths together. John only hesitated for a second and then began kissing back with just as much enthusiasm.

"What was that all about?" John asked breaking away when they were both panting with lips swollen.

"I forgot to say good morning." Jim shrugged.

John shook his head and chuckled, pushing his fingers up into Jim's hair and massaging the back of his head. "Good morning to you too." He muttered before tugging Jim forwards so their lips could meet again.

Jim put his hands on the counter and pushed his whole body flush against John's. He felt the stirring of John's arousal against his thigh and rolled his hips to help it along. John groaned and threw his head back, elongated his neck. Jim took the opportunity to lick and bite at the stretched skin.

"Jim, the tea." John reminded him.

"Let it go cold."

"Jim." John sighed in exasperation. Jim rolled his eyes and reluctantly moved away. He felt cold almost instantaneously and without thinking left the kitchen. Warmth, he needed warmth. So he went into the bathroom to his oversized, circular tub and started running himself a bath. He poured in some soap and watched the bubbles swirl and cloud the water.

When the water was high enough, he slipped off his dressing gown and stepped in. The water was just shy of scalding and Jim sunk into the heat willingly. "I can't remember the last time I had a bath." John said from the doorway.

"Care to join me?"

John shrugged and made his way over with both cups of tea. He placed one of the edge of the tub near Jim and placed his own on the other side. Dropping his own dressing gown on the floor next to Jim's, he took his time getting in, giving his body time to adjust to the heat. Jim watched him as each bit of exposed skin disappeared into the water until just his shoulders and head were visible. 

"You're too far away." Jim pouted as John settled on the opposite side of the tub. John sighed, grabbed his cup and made his way over. Jim put his arms up, resting on the seal of the tub and John settled in next to him. He put his arm around Jim's waist and draped one of his legs over Jim's.

"Tell me another story." John requested, dropping his head onto Jim's shoulder and closing his eyes. Jim studied his relaxed face for a moment, watching as each of the wrinkles in his face disappeared.

"Really?"

"I like to hear it, like getting to know you." John mumbled sleepily.

"What do you want to hear?"

"Anything, anything you feel like telling me. Just something true."

"Something true?" Jim echoed in confusion.

"Right. Don't fabricate it or sugarcoat over something you don't think I'll like. I'm peeling away the masks, trying to find the man underneath. So tell me about him."

Jim's heart started beating very loudly and he had the sudden urge to kiss John for hours on end. He placed his finger under John's chin and raised his head so their lips could meet. John made a small sound of contentment and allowed himself to be kissed. Jim parted John's lips with his tongue and explored that mouth he already knew so well, tasting milky tea and John. John slid his tongue over Jim's and then sucked, causing Jim to moan against his mouth. 

"Well?" John said expectantly when they finally broke apart. His eyes were open now as he reached for his tea.

"Close your eyes again."

"Why?"

"It'll make it…easier." Jim confessed. John just nodded and put his head back down. Jim talked, telling John stories he'd never told anyone before in his life. He'd never really had anyone to tell them to before. All he had was employees and you didn't exactly confess your secrets to them. He had always been careful not to reveal information that could potentially be used against him but he found himself wanting to tell John. It was even more surprising that John had requested it in the first place. As Jim talked, he just listened quietly, sipping his tea and not moving away from Jim's side, hand on Jim's hip, making lazy patterns with his fingers.

He told John about his first kiss with a girl named Marla when he was eight, how it had been the first time he'd joined in playing kiss-chase with the other kids. How he had very briefly considered becoming more social until he saw Marla kissing another boy and reconsidered.

When he told the story of the first time he'd killed someone with his bare hands, the hand on his hip tightened but John didn't pull away. Jim recounted the story of how he'd found his boyfriend from Uni in bed with someone else. How he'd choked the life out of the man, feeling the power of taking a life. How he'd later killed his boyfriend when he threatened to go to the police and turn Jim in.

He switched to a lighter topic and recalled stories of his grandmother. Her obsession with Agatha Christie, how she always wore bright pink lipstick and blush even if she was just going to the grocery store. How she dragged him to church each Sunday even though he hated it. She'd given him a chemistry set for his thirteenth birthday, saying it might finally be something to hold his interest.

He bragged a little when he told the story of how he'd made his first million pounds, by conning an American steel tycoon into buying a worthless piece of property. How he'd hacked into a jet engineering business, stolen the plans for their new jet and sold it to a rival company for ten million pounds.

John finally drifted off to sleep, gently snoring into Jim's neck. Jim smiled and pressed a soft kiss to John's temple. John's cup was empty so Jim placed it back on the edge of the tub and reached for his own, downing the now cold tea in one gulp. He kissed John again, this time on the lips. He was surprised when John kissed him back.

"Take me to bed." John said, his voice groggy.

Jim nodded and pulled the plug on the bath, letting the water drain. John leaned against him as they walked carefully into the bedroom. Jim grabbed a towel and dried himself, then quickly did the same to John. He deposited the other man on the bed, who immediately sank into the pillows, and Jim pulled the duvet over him.

"Where are you going?" John asked, face half buried in the pillows, his eyes barely open. He reached out his hand for Jim and it made Jim's pulse quicken.

"Back to my evil plans." Jim replied with a grin.

"When I said take me to bed, that was a suggestive remark, not a request to be tucked in."

"John, you're tired." Jim pointed out.

"Yes, and…?"

"You're about to pass out."

"So?"

"John."

"Jim."

Jim rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and shook his head. John scooted closer so he could grab Jim's hand and pull him down. Jim went somewhat willingly, landing half on top of the army doctor. They began to kiss lazily, rolling around the bed, changing who was on top.

"I think I'm in love with you." John confessed when Jim was busy ravishing his throat. Jim went very still and got up so he could look at John's face to see if he was joking.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you just told me some awful, truly dreadful stories –"

"- You asked." Jim interjected defensively.

"I know. And even after hearing about some of the terrible things you've done, I still want to be here. I still want you to touch me and kiss me and fuck me. It doesn't make any sense but it feels like love."

Jim stared unblinkingly at him for a long time. He didn't know what to say or do or think or feel so he stayed completely still.

"What?" John asked, shifting uncomfortably under Jim's gaze.

"If you're lying to me-"

"-I'm not, I wouldn't, I'm not. I mean it."

"Say it." Jim whispered, needing to hear the exact words.

"I love you." John reached up and gently caressed Jim's cheek. "God help me, I do. I've tried really hard not to and it's confusing as fuck because if anyone ever finds out, my entire life will go to shit. But I'm happy when I'm here, with you and god damn it why did you have to be so fucking amazing?"

Jim's lips slowly broke out into a wide smile until he was beaming down at John. "I'm amazing?"

"You are. You're amazing and clever and sexy and interesting and wonderful." Each and was mumbled against Jim's lips as John kissed him. "I like being here and talking to you. The sex is fantastic and you make me laugh, which I never thought would happen. You make me happy, which I think is the hardest bit to wrap my head around. But I don't think I ever stood a chance, not against the world's greatest criminal mastermind."

"You really didn't." Jim laughed and kissed John deeply. It didn't take long for the kiss to turn into sex, with John frantically reaching for the lube as Jim's lips explored every inch of John's torso, licking from navel to chin until his lips met John's in an open mouthed kiss. John gasped and writhed as Jim's fingers worked him open, pushing himself down against those probing fingers.

John put a pillow under his hips and tilted them up as Jim slid into him. John curled his legs around Jim's and they rocked together, slow and deep, kissing until they were sharing each other's air, exhaling while the other inhaled. Jim was dizzy and lightheaded but he didn't stop, he didn't dare stop. But John had more sense than he did and broke the kiss, panting heavily with his cheek against Jim's, rubbing them together.

"I love you." John said again and with one final thrust, Jim grunted and came. John gripped Jim by the shoulders and turned them so Jim was on his back. He grabbed the lube and poured some over his fingers, slipping them between Jim's cheeks. Jim arched up off the bed and John kneeled between his legs, grabbing his thighs and wrapping them around his waist. Jim's hips were at the perfect angle to John to push in and brush against that spot. Jim moaned loudly as John's thrusts became quicker and more desperate. John was chanting Jim's name breathlessly until a small cry tore it's way from his throat and he emptied himself deep inside Jim.

John eased out slowly and dropped onto the bed next to Jim. The other man scooted closer and wrapped his arms around him. "Say it again Johnny." Jim requested, nuzzling his face in the nape of John's neck.

"You know, you could say it." John reminded him, yawning with exhaustion.

"I'd already said it more times than you, I was just evening up the score."

"You don't need to keep score. Not everything is a competition."

Jim sighed impatiently. "Just say it Johnny."

John turned so they were facing each other before capturing Jim's lips and kissing him languidly. "I love you." John said cradling Jim's face in his hands.

"You know, you caved so easily. I had all these plans for how I was going to make you fall in love with me." Jim said with a fake put-upon sigh.

"Such as?"

"Steal you the Crown Jewels."

John laughed. "I'd look rubbish in a crown."

"Fine, I'll have the crown. You can have the scepter."

"What am I going to do with a scepter?"

"Anything you want, I suppose. Hit people with it?"

"Seems a bit dramatic."

"Whole world's a stage Johnny." Jim sing-songed.

John reached up and stroked the hair behind Jim's ear, staring into endless brown eyes. "I love you."

"You don't have to keep saying it."

"I want to. I don't think you've heard it enough in your life."

"No." Jim's face fell instantly. "No, don't do that."

Jim was up out of the bed, shoving the covers away, in a matter of seconds. John started at him in bewilderment. "Do what?"

Moriarty was pacing, tugging his hands through his hair angrily. "Don't make me the fucking victim." He shouted, pointedly not looking at John. "I'm not the fucking victim, I'm the villain. This doesn't change that." He gestured between the two of them but still wouldn't look at John.

"Jim." John said softly, trying to get the consulting criminal to calm down.

"Don't." Jim warned, his teeth bared. "Stop trying to rationalize things! You always do this. You can't understand how you fell in love with me. First you tried denial and now you're trying to make me good. Just stop it. I killed people because I wanted to. It has nothing to do with not being loved as a child or how many times my boyfriend cheated on me. People get cheated on every day without killing the person who wronged them. Stop making this about "oh poor me, mommy didn't love me enough" and realize this is just you trying to come to terms with the fact that you fell in love with a psychopath."

They both went quiet, the only sound in the room Jim's harsh breathing. John slowly got out of the bed and made his way over to Jim. He wrapped his arms around him and held him close, resting his chin on Jim's shoulder and running his hands up and down his back soothingly. Jim tried to pull away, wiggling in John's embrace but the solider held him tight, not allowing him to escape.

"Maybe you're right, this could be about me. But it's also about you. No one, psychopath or not, should have to go through what you did. No one should wake up to their mother trying to smother them. No one should walk in on their boyfriend shagging someone else. It's not pity, it's empathy. I'm trying to be comforting so you know I'm not like them."

"I know that." Jim said quietly, his hands finally moving up to embrace John back.

"Then let me do this for you. I can't change it but let me try to make it better, less painful."

"It's not painful, it doesn't matter."

"It does. Of course it matters. You wouldn't have told me those stories if they weren't significant. You could have told me anything and yet those were the ones you chose."

"You can't heal wounds that closed up a long time ago, Johnny."

"Just…shut up."

Jim's tongue darted out to lick his lips but he didn't say anything more. For a moment they stayed like that, in a companionable silence, just breathing and hugging. Jim closed his eyes and felt nothing but the heat of John's body, the strength of his arms around him. John was solid and strong, dependable and comforting. His breathing was slow and steady, calming just like his heartbeat.

"What happens now Doctor?"

"Now, we get into bed and you let me hold you until we both fall asleep." John replied, guiding them back towards the bed. They crawled in under the covers and found each other again, wrapping their arms around each other. As usual Jim placed his head on John's chest, ear resting just above his heartbeat. It didn't take long for John to drift off but Jim stayed awake, still working the problem. It was much easier, for whatever reason, when he had the sound of John's heartbeat in his ear.

"I love you." Jim said, taking John's arm and wrapping it more tightly around his waist. "And I'm going to keep you. No matter what"

XXXX

They had a case, which was a relief. It finally felt like things were getting back to normal between Sherlock and John. John was anxious to help even if their last case together hadn't ended so well. Sherlock had been frustrated on the simplicity of the case and got angry when John tried to leave. He still seemed to think it was Mycroft John was seeing and had finally snapped a bit. The row was short and quick, with John pulling away and getting into a taxi to go to Jim's.

But now things were better, or at least on their way to being better. Sherlock finally had a case that could hold his interest and had asked John to come along. They were sitting next to each other on their client's couch, John making sure there was enough space between them so that they weren't touching.

The client was a young woman named Jessica Samuels. She had had an affair with her boss and someone had found out about it. She was being blackmailed for more than she could afford and had asked Sherlock to help her find out the identity of the blackmailer. Her boss had taken her to some sex club, very exclusive, the kind of thing you needed an invitation to just to get through the door.

"We were careful. We were so careful. We always took separate taxis to the hotel, we arrived at different times. We never did anything at work. There's no way anyone could have known unless it was at that stupid club. He wanted to go, it wasn't even my idea. He thought it would be safe, that people would keep our secret because it was so exclusive."

"But they didn't?" John inferred.

"Apparently not." She snapped back in irritation.

"When does this club meet?" Sherlock asked, leaning his forearms on his elbows, fingers tented and resting against his chin.

"Every other week on Friday nights. They meet in this abandoned warehouse, I can give you directions if you'd like."

"Yes." Sherlock nodded and Jessica left to find a piece of paper and a pen.

"So what's the plan then?"

"We'll have to go to this club, have a look around and determine the most likely suspects of blackmail.."

"What? We're going to a sex club?"

"Well they're not exactly going to just give us a list of members, are they? Not to an highly exclusive club." Sherlock reasoned, getting to his feet.

"Sherlock, you need an invitation." John reminded him, jumping up off the couch again.

"And thanks to Ms. Samuels, we have one. All you need is the address and the password for getting in. She'll give us both, I'm sure." Sherlock was already slipping his coat back on, knotting his scarf around his neck.

"Sherlock, we can't just go to a sex club!" John tried again.

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, oblivious as to why the two of them at a sex club would be awkward for John.

"It's just, it's not on! What do you expect to ask people? They'll be there to shag, not be interrogated."

"We'll be fine. I'll be able to weed out people when we're there, it will all be fairly easy."

"Sherlock –"

"Ah, Ms. Samuels." Sherlock cut John off as their client walked back into the room. "And the password?"

"The Golden Apple." She told them and Sherlock nodded.

"We'll be in touch." He snatched the piece of paper out of her hands, turned on his heels and left.

"Uh, just let us know if you need anything else." John said trying to be polite as he followed after his flatmate.

XXXX

John really had no idea how he'd been talking into this. He was standing outside a warehouse in the suit Jim had given him, standing next to Sherlock, who looked impossibly gorgeous in one of his perfectly tailored suits. When John had tried to get out of it, Sherlock had insisted. When he tried to wear a different suit, Sherlock had said that they needed to look the part and anyone could tell how cheap his other suits were.

So when they got to the door and it slid open, Sherlock gave the password and no one gave them a second glance. John was extremely nervous and thought this whole thing was stupid. No one was going to want to talk to them and Sherlock would probably spend the entire time trying to ward off people's advancements while John stood awkwardly to the side trying not to hear people going at it.

Sure enough, as they walked through the warehouse, people kept eyeing Sherlock, a few of them licking their lips suggestively. He was also surprised to find more than a few people's gazes lingering on him. He would have been flattered if he wasn't so completely embarrassed by the whole thing.

The warehouse had been done up to look like an Arabian harem or something similar. The cement floor was covered in expensive looking rugs. There were large areas with sofas, areas with nothing but pillows and finally some beds with velvet curtains enclosing them to give people some privacy. Everything was done up in purple, gold and deep reds, the lighting dimmed to give it a more intimate atmosphere. Everywhere he looked, John saw piles of condoms and tubes of lubricant. Two women were in the corner on the floor, one using a dildo to pleasure the other. He wasn't sure if that was something provided or if they had brought it with them. Either way, he made sure not to stare for too long, feeling his cock beginning to thicken.

"What exactly do you think you're going to accomplish Sherlock?" John whispered harshly.

"Finding someone who looks capable of blackmail."

"And you're going to be able to tell that from one look?" John asked, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"Look, whoever is blackmailing Ms. Samuels clearly saw her here. So our suspect is going to be here. We just have to wait."

"For what? It's not as if they're going to walk in and announce themselves."

"I'll be able to tell." Sherlock replied confidently and headed off to have a look around. John was about to follow him when someone grabbed him and covered his mouth, pulling him through one of the curtains and onto a bed.

"What the –" he started but stopped when he turned to see his abductor. "Jim, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, I've been here before." Jim grinned, taking John by the shoulders and pushing him down against the pillows.

"Jim, I really don't have time for this. Sherlock's here." John said desperately as Jim started sucking at his neck.

"You're wearing the suit Johnny, I couldn't keep my hands off you even if I wanted to, and I don't want to." Jim said, reaching down and palming John through his trousers.

"Jim. He has no sense of propriety, he'll have no problem barging in on us." John said, trying to escape while his cock was thankful for the attention. 

"So? Tell me the idea doesn't get you a little bit excited."

"It doesn't." John said through gritted teeth, hoping Jim would believe his lie. In fact the idea of Sherlock barging in on them was a strangely thrilling one, giving the evening a sense of danger that John so craved.

"Liar." Jim said with a smirk and ducked his head down to kiss John again.

John fisted his hand in Jim's hair and pulled him off. "Still, it doesn't mean we should do this."

"Come on Johnny, don't be a kill-joy. You wouldn't be saying no if you knew the trouble I'd gone to –" Jim snapped his mouth shut.

"To what? To find me? How did you even know I was here?" Jim snorted and gave him a look like he was an idiot. "Right, stupid question. You pretty much always know where I am. It can't have been to find me once I was here, you managed that almost right away. So what trouble did you go to?"

"It's nothing, kiss me." Jim said trying to evade the question and capture John's lips again. John pushed Jim away and got up so they were kneeling face to face on the bed.

"Jim, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" Jim insisted somewhat unconvincingly. The Cheshire cat grin he was adorning didn't exactly help sell his act of innocence.

"Jim, oh god. Please tell me you're not behind this." John pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

"Behind what?"

"This. The case Sherlock and I are on. Please tell me you didn't threaten and scare a poor girl just to get me here."

"Do you want me to lie?" Jim asked in confusion.

"Oh God" John groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face. "That poor girl thinks she's being blackmailed."

"She is being blackmailed." Jim shrugged indifferently. "It's just I'm the one doing it."

"Why? Just to get me to some sex club? You could have just asked."

"Would you have said yes?" Jim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know. Probably not. This isn't exactly my scene." John waved his arms, gesturing at their surroundings.

"Exactly. I thought you might want to spice up the relationship. I was worried you were getting bored of me." Jim said wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and pulling him close.

"Jim, the only way you could be boring was if you were catatonic." John reassured him, pressing a gentle kiss of his lips. "If anyone should be worried about being boring, it's me."

"Hmm." Jim said thoughtfully, running his fingers through John's hair. "Then I think you better do as I ask."

"What about Sherlock?"

"What about him?" Jim asked with a deep frown, his eyes narrowing.

"Look Jim, I know my friendship with Sherlock means absolutely nothing to you but it's important to me. And I'm fairly certain that if he ever found out that we're, whatever the hell we are, he'd hate me and that's pretty much the best case scenario."

"Fine." Jim grumbled, loosening his tie.

"What are you doing?" John asked, brow furrowing with bafflement.

"Here." he said when his tie finally came loose. He reached up and tied it over John's eyes, using it as a blindfold. "Now if he finds us, you can pretend you had no idea who it was."

Jim went back to kissing him before he could even think about protesting. With John being blind to the world, he had nothing but Jim. He followed the other man's lead, each touch exhilarating without the use of his sight. He never knew what Jim would do next, unable to anticipate if he was going to kiss, lick, bite or simply touch. He was completely at Jim's mercy and it made him excited. Everything was heightened with the lack of sight, every touch electric and his body felt oversensitive. 

Jim undid John's trousers and pushed them down to his lower thigh. Then he guided the army doctor so he was on his hands and knees, his shirt and jacket still on. Jim ran his fingers up and down the cleft on John's arse, feeling the familiar coldness of the lubricant, as Jim gave him a bit of warning that he was about to be penetrated.

Jim and John groaned simultaneously as Jim's finger slipped in with relative ease. "You're seriously going to fuck me with the suit still mostly on?"

"What? I stripped you as much as I need to." Jim said as he worked his finger in and out, slipping a second one in

"You and this bloody suit. You two want to be alone together?" John quipped, rocking back against Jim's fingers.

"Pointless. What makes the suit is you inside it, filling it." His free hand ran over John's back, fingers brushing against the expensive fabric.

"Flattery?" John asked smugly.

"Truth, Doctor. Why bother with flattery when I've already got my fingers inside you?" To illustrate his point, he crooked his finger and stroked it over John's prostate, eliciting a low, rumbling moan.

"Fair point." John conceded, dropping his head down onto the bed. Jim slipped in a third finger, stretching John further.

Jim fumbled one-handedly trying to open his trousers while the other than continued to work John open, fingers sliding in and out in a slow rhythm. When Jim had his trousers down to his knees, he grabbed one of the condom packets from the bed, ripping it open with his teeth.

"Bit late for that, don't you think?" John asked sarcastically, recognizing the sound. "Unless you're worried about getting me pregnant."

"Can't risk getting you all messy." Jim said as he slipped his fingers out, forcing another groan from John's lips.

He slipped the sheath over his prick and grabbed some lube, applying it liberally. He lined himself up and pressed just the head in, breaching John slowly. John instantly moved away, Jim's cock pulling out. "What the fuck is on your cock?" he asked, turning his head even though he was still blindfolded.

"A condom." Jim said as if this were obvious.

"That's not what a condom feels like!" John shouted and Jim shushed him.

"It's ribbed Johnny, calm down."

"Oh Jesus." John shook his head.

Jim lined up again and pressed back in. John's breath was coming in harsh gasps. "Slowly." John said with his jaw clenched.

Jim went annoyingly slow, pushing past the ring of muscles and surrounding himself with overwhelming tightness and heat. He wanted nothing more than to shove the rest of the way in but he held back. He was almost halfway in when John cried out again. "Stop, stop. Too much. Too much."

Jim stilled his movement and couldn't help thinking that at this rate they'd never actually get to the fucking. "You're fine." He said in a way that he hoped was soothing but knew came out more as annoyance. He pushed in further and John yelped. He continued on and when he got to the sweet spot, John had to bite down on his fist to keep from screaming. Jim did a tiny little thrust, knowing the ribs on the condom were over-stimulating John's prostate.

"Jim, oh God. Fuck, fuck, fuck." John sounded close to sobbing.

"Do you want me to stop?" Jim asked, trying to be considerate. He could always pull out and put on a regular condom but he liked watching John fall to pieces.

John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fuck no, just…be careful with me yeah?"

"Of course Johnny." Jim promised, smoothing his hand over John's backside before gripping his hips. His first real thrust is slow, pulling out and pushing back in until he bottomed out. John arched his back, head snapping up as he howled. Jim did it again, earning practically the same reaction. He did a few quick, sharp thrusts and John's arms almost gave out, shaking as he tried to keep himself upright.

"Holy fucking fuck." John said breathlessly.

"How good is it Johnny?" Jim asked, going back to long, even strokes.

"So good. Jim, fuck. Jim." John moaned loudly.

"You know, there's no point in that blindfold if you're just going to keep saying my name." Jim said pulling almost all the way out and then watching as he sunk back in, disappearing inside his lover.

"Well, it's really…fucking difficult…when you're…fucking me…with that…bloody thing on your…prick." John said, gasping for air and clutching at the sheets.

Jim started thrusting harder, picking up the pace, until John was an uncontrollable mess, moaning in between the string of curse words and breathless whispers of Jim's name. Jim hardly touched him, had just gotten his hand on John's cock when John came, his whole body shuddering as he spilled his release onto the bed.

Jim pulled out and rolled John onto his back, away from his spunk on the sheets. He thrust back in and John fisted both his hands into Jim's hair, clutching at him so hard he thought John might rip it from his head. "Almost there." He said speeding up, pounding into John ruthlessly. John was quite a sight, flushed and sweating with his mouth slack and lips parted. Jim licked at John's lips, tasting the saltiness of his sweat. John raised his head up and bit down on Jim's neck hard. It pushed Jim over the edge and he filled the condom, missing the ownership that came from emptying himself directly inside John.

"Oh God, oh god." John groaned, dropping his head back down and shaking it slowly from side to side.

"Alright?" Jim asked after his vision had cleared.

"You're a bloody lunatic." John said, his breath still shaky.

"That's not exactly news Johnny."

John giggled and pulled Jim down for a kiss. Jim took the opportunity to ease out, keeping a hold on the condom. He disposed of it in the rubbish bin they'd supplied next to the bed for such things.

He reached up and pulled his tie away from John's eyes. John blinked a few times and when his gaze focused on Jim, he smiled. "You're too much."

"Thank you."

John snorted and brushed his lips against Jim's. Jim instantly retaliated by crushing their lips together, devouring the army doctor in a hungry kiss. "I think you might have to leave me here. I don't know when I'll be able to sit or walk again."

"Then I'll stay here with you." Jim offered.

"Love you." John said, his eyes drooping with exhaustion.

"Love you." Jim said, lacing their fingers together.

There was a crash and John's eyes snapped open. "What was that?"

"Nothing, probably just someone who likes it a bit rough." Jim shrugged.

"That didn't sound like sex, that sounded like someone threw something. Oh God, Sherlock." John said pushing Jim off him and sitting up. He quickly tucked his shirt back in and zipped up his trousers. "I completely forgot he was here. Fuck, we're on a sodding case."

"He's fine. He can handle himself."

"What? What are you talking about? Wait, you know something, don't you?" John asked, eyeing Jim accusingly.

"No." Jim lied.

"Jim, what didn't you tell me? What did you do?"

"I may have sent someone to distract him." Jim shrugged nonchalantly.

"Someone?" John asked and then his eyes fluttered closed. "Oh god. I can't believe you – I could kill you for this Jim – how could you do this?"

"He'll be fine. It's all part of the plan." Jim insisted but John wasn't buying it.

"For fuck's sake Jim!" John growled angrily and shoved the curtain aside, leaving abruptly.

John ran towards the noise he'd heard, ignoring all the people busy shagging in a multitude of different ways. There was a door and John pressed his ear against it, hearing the sound of a struggle going on inside. "Sherlock!" he called out, pounding his fist on the door.

"Bit busy here, John." Sherlock called back and John heard the sound of metal scraping against metal.

John rammed his shoulder against the door, trying to break it down. The door rattled but didn't budge. He tried again but with no more luck than the first time. By the fifth time his shoulder was stinging with pain. The sixth time he finally got enough force behind it and the door burst open.

"John, look out!" Sherlock yelled and John barely had time to register what was going on before there was a black, blurry shape and a long, sharp knife sliced at his belly. The cut was shallow but John still dropped to his knees. He was going to need stitches, he knew that much. His expensive white shirt was getting soaked in blood as he collapsed on the floor.

"Oh God, John." Sherlock rushed over and knelt beside him.

"Where is he?" John asked, looking around for the man with the knife.

"He just escaped out the window, left right after he cut you." Sherlock explained.

"Are you alright?" John asked checking Sherlock over to see if the assassin had done any damage.

Sherlock laughed. "Only you could be lying there bleeding and still find time to see if I'm alright. Why don't we focus on you?"

"I'm fine, or at least I think I'm fine. Definitely need to go to the hospital." John winced at the pain but tried to hide it. Sherlock saw it anyway and took his hand.

"You're going to be fine." Sherlock gave his hand a small squeeze, trying to be reassuring but John could see the fear in his eyes.

"Of course I will." John replied, reassuring himself as much as Sherlock. "Hardly a flesh wound."

"Of course, of course you'll be fine." Sherlock nodded but didn't let go of John's hand. "You have to be fine, John. You have to be."

"I'll do my best." John said, giving Sherlock a faint smile. "I might blackout for a bit but I'll come back."

"You will, you always do." Sherlock agreed. "The ambulance is on its way, just hang on."

XXXX

Jim surveyed the touching scene from the shadows, watching Sherlock touch John.  _His_  John. Sherlock had the nerve to hold his hand, to reassure him when it should have been Jim. It should have been him next to John, telling him everything would be alright. It made his blood boil as he curled his hands into fists and made himself turn away. All his plans have unraveled and instead of driving them apart, he managed to make Sherlock and John closer.

Sherlock was supposed to be left on his own while he faced the assassin, then John was supposed to join him. It would take Sherlock seconds to figure out that John had just had sex. Then Jim would make sure Sherlock caught a glimpse of him before he disappeared and finally Sherlock would work out where John had been. But that was all fucked now. All of it was ruined and now Sherlock and John were holding hands. The mental image of it made Jim's vision blur with rage.

He wanted to kill Sherlock Holmes but that would have to wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He pulled his black phone out and dialed Moran's number. Moran didn't even have a chance to utter a greeting before Jim spoke. "You find that fucking idiot assassin Chaika and you bring him to me. I'm going to deal with him. Then I want you to contact anyone who's ever done business with us and you tell them, you fucking tell them that if any of them harms a single hair on John Watson's head, I will see to them personally. John Watson is off limits unless they want a visit from me."

Jim ended the call with a jab of his thumb before Moran could say anything or protest. He stood there for a moment, seething with anger. He stepped off to the side and remained hidden, watching as the ambulance arrived and John disappeared inside it, Sherlock never leaving his side. Jim watched until the ambulance was gone from sight and then he stalked off into the night, ready to make someone bleed.


	11. Chapter 11

"Sherlock, will you please stop fussing? I'm fine!" John hollered when Sherlock insisted on fluffing his pillow for the fifteenth time that hour.

"This pillow is no good, I'll go ask the nurse for a different one." He said stealing the pillow altogether.

"Sherlock, it's fine. I'm fine." John insisted and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder to make him sit still for a second. The Consulting Detective reluctantly sat for all of five seconds before jumping back up again.

"Tea!" he exclaimed. "That's what you need, tea. I'll go get you some."

"Sherlock Holmes, if you don't sit down this moment, I will literally punch you in the face." John threatened, using his commanding Captain John Watson voice. Sherlock plopped down into the seat and crossed his arms and legs, pouting. He started drumming his fingers against his arm and was twitching to get up.

"Sherlock." John groaned, covering his face with his hands. "You're driving me mad. There's no reason for you to be here, just go home."

"Do you want me to leave?" Sherlock asked, looking somewhat hurt.

"No, I don't. But you obviously don't want to be here." John reasoned, trying to get Sherlock off the hook.

"I never said that." Sherlock countered defensively.

"Sherlock, you can't sit still for a second. You're obviously restless." John pointed out.

"I'm not restless, I'm nervous, there's a difference."

"What are you nervous about?"

"We didn't catch the assassin, in fact we have no idea who sent them after me and the case is still unsolved. What if they come back and actually succeed in killing you?"

John fell silent for a moment, feeling guilty for not telling the truth. But then he couldn't exactly tell Sherlock that Jim had sent the assassin without saying how he knew. So he kept his mouth shut. "Well, they weren't coming after me anyways, they were coming after you. If anything you should be worried for yourself."

"I wasn't the one who got sliced down the middle."

"I'm fine. I'm all stitched up, nothing important fell out, in a few weeks it'll be like nothing happened."

"Apart from the long scar across your abdomen." Sherlock scoffed, up out of his seat again and pacing in front of John's bed. John opened his mouth to say something, probably reassuring or the like, when there was a knock on the door. Mycroft stepped in without waiting for an invitation to do so.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock asked angrily, hands curling into fists at his sides. He walked over to his brother and if John hadn't known better, he would have sworn Sherlock was trying to shield him from Mycroft's view.

"Sherlock!" John scolded for the rude greeting to his brother, unable to do much more from where he was bedridden.

"I'm here to inquire after the health of Doctor Watson." Mycroft replied calmly and tried to sidestep Sherlock. The younger man jumped in his way again. "Sherlock, you're being childish." Mycroft said with an exasperated sigh.

"You know perfectly well how he is. I'm sure you've been over his hospital records and seen the footage of the scene. So why are you really here?" Sherlock asked, eyeing his older brother suspiciously.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and walked around his brother. "How are you John?"

"Oh, so it's John now, is it?" Sherlock asked in irritation, turning on his heels to glare at Mycroft. "A moment ago it was Doctor Watson."

"I'm fine." John shook Mycroft's outstretched hand and shot Sherlock a warning look. "Thank you for coming by."

"We've been looking for the man who attacked you but with very little success so far I'm afraid."

"I'm sure you're doing your best." John said with a gentle smile. Sherlock snorted from the chair he was currently lounging in, his long legs stretched out straight in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

"Well I just wanted to come by and make sure you were alright."

"Yes, I'm doing well, all things considered."

"I'm very glad my brother hasn't gotten you killed with his antics."

"Oh piss off Mycroft." Sherlock shouted, staring out the window.

"Sherlock!" John yelled again, unsure why Sherlock was in such a foul mood.

"It's quite alright John. Get well soon." He placed his hand on John's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. John's eyes flickered over to Sherlock and saw the man was watching their brief contact out of the corner of his eye, silently fuming away with the corners of his mouth turned down into a deep frown.

"It was very kind of you to come visit."

"No problem at all."

"Goodbye Mycroft. I'm sure you're busy so no need to come back." Sherlock told him and turned away to pointedly not look as his brother left.

"You could have been a bit nicer." John said when they were alone again.

Sherlock shrugged. "It's Mycroft, I'm never nice."

"You didn't have to be such a twat to him though. People are allowed to visit me in the hospital, you know."

"Your concern for my brother's feelings is really very touching."

"Oh no, not this again. For the last time, I am not shagging your brother!"

"Then who is it?" Sherlock asked, jumping out of his chair and looming over John. "Who are you seeing?"

"It's none of your business! Anyways can't you "deduce" who it is?" John pressed his lips together. That had been entirely the wrong thing to say. It sounded like a challenge when in fact John didn't want Sherlock to know the truth.

"I don't understand why you won't just tell me."

"Because I don't want to. Because I want something for myself Sherlock."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you see everything, you know everything. I don't have a personal life or private thoughts. I came home from Afghanistan and you took over my life. In a lot of ways I let it happen, I know I did. But look at where it's gotten us. It hurts Sherlock, do you understand that? It hurts to be in love with someone who doesn't love you back and I know, I know I never actually told you I loved you and I'm regretting saying it now but Christ Sherlock, you must have known. You had to have known. Being around you isn't easy for me anymore and I'm finally moving past it, finding someone who loves me back and is finally something that's just mine, not ours but mine. I need it and I want it to stay that way because if I lose this and we go back to how things were, I'll lose you too or I'll leave because I won't be able to stand it any longer. But this is making things better, it's what's keeping me with you. If I didn't have him then I would have moved out a long time ago because being in love with you, it's fucking horrible. So please, please, if you value my friendship at all, let me have this."

Sherlock swallowed hard and turned away.

"Sherlock, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I'm just trying to make you understand why I'm not telling you."

"I do, John. I understand." Sherlock nodded, unable to meet John's gaze. "I think I'll just step out for a moment. Can I get you anything?"

"Some tea would be lovely, thanks." John answered, giving his flatmate a tentative smile.

"Okay." Sherlock said quietly before leaving the room.

John sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. He sunk down into the pillows and closed his eyes, feeling drained. He concentrated on his breathing, in and out until he felt relatively normal again. He wasn't sure if he had been too harsh or had overloaded Sherlock with information. All he knew was that Sherlock had looked more than lost when he had retreated from the room and that it was all John's doing.

His eyes snapped open when he felt the bed shift as someone sat down beside him. Instead of a face he was greeted by a dozen dark red roses with baby's breath interspersed between them. Jim peeked out from behind them, a small smile on his lips. "Surprise! I would have come earlier but that stupid flatmate of yours refused to leave."

"Jim. Leave. Now." John said through gritted teeth.

"But I brought you flowers." Jim pouted, placing them on the bedside table.

"Yes and they're lovely, but Sherlock's here, Mycroft just left. You're taking an awfully big risk coming here to see me." John reasoned, eyes glancing at the door every so often to make sure Sherlock wasn't on his way back.

"Oh stop worrying, he's in the cafeteria lost in thought and I made sure the flowers blocked my face from any of the camera's view. We're fine."

"We're really not."

"What do you mean?" Jim's brow furrowed and he stared at John, somewhat perplexed.

"I mean that you sent an assassin after Sherlock. I mean that you're the reason I've been spliced open. I mean that I'm really bloody angry with you!" John kept his voice down but there was real bite to his words.

"What's the big deal? You're fine, Sherlock's fine, we're all fucking fantastic."

"Jim, that's not the point. I could have been killed, Sherlock could have been killed. God, do you have any compassion in you at all?"

Jim rolled his eyes and got up off the bed. "Psychopath, remember?"

"Would you have even cared if your bloody assassin had killed me?"

"Of course I would have cared!" Jim shot back, offended by the accusation.

"Well you're pretty blasé about this whole thing. Do I need to remind you that I'm in the hospital, where you put me?"

"Come on Johnny, don't be like that. I came to see you, didn't I? What more could I have done?"

"You could have, I don't know, not sent trained killers after me and my friend."

"They weren't after you!"

"You're not even going to admit you were wrong." John shook his head incredulously.

"No. Come on, you know I didn't mean for you to get hurt." Jim reached for John's hand but he pulled it away roughly.

"Jim, just go." John said turning away. "I need time, just away from you."

"Are you ending it?" Jim asked, suddenly terrified.

"No, I just…need some space from you for awhile. I need to process, or whatever, and I need to heal. We'll talk about this later."

Jim got back on the bed, crawling up John's legs until he settled, straddling John's thighs. "But you still love me, right?" Jim asked, putting his finger under John's chin and forcing him to meet his gaze.

"Yes." John said quietly.

"I love you too." Jim moved his hand so it was cupping John's face and then leaned in so their lips could meet. He gently pushed John back against the pillows and deepened the kiss. John kissed back without meaning to; it was almost instinctual at that point. His mouth opened and he grew pliant against Jim's lips, moving his own mouth against Jim's, for a moment forgetting how furious he was. Jim pulled away and then leaned back in to nip gently at John's lower lip. "You'll miss me."

With one last kiss to John's forehead, Jim gently eased off the bed. He grabbed a surgical mask and put it on, giving John one last lingering look before he disappeared into the hall. Five minutes later Sherlock entered, glaring at the flowers that now adorned John's table. John was sitting completely still, a little dazed until Sherlock cleared his throat and handed John a cup of tea. John took it and muttered his thanks while Sherlock flopped into the chair next to his bed. Sherlock didn't seem in the mood to talk and for once John was thankful for that. He sipped his tea quietly and every so often his eyes would land on the bouquet of flowers.

XXXX

John was finally home, having been released from the hospital after a few days. He hadn't spoken to Jim in all that time and he was doing his best not to think about him. Although when he'd come home, he'd found a new suit waiting for him on his bed with a note saying it was to replace the one that had gotten ruined. Sure enough it was the same exact suit, tailored to fit him perfectly. He smiled as he hung it up in his closet and had to force himself not to call Jim and thank him. Instead he tidied up the flat, watched telly and tried to keep things from getting awkward with Sherlock. They hadn't spent so much time together in awhile and sometimes it was fine and others it was almost unbearable.

After an excruciating night of awkward silence between them, John went to bed early, not wishing to prolong the evening. He'd left Sherlock downstairs working on some experiment or other. Naturally just before he drifted off to sleep, his thought turned to Jim and wondered what the Consulting Criminal was getting up to in his absence. John imagined a number of horrible things and it made his stomach churn to think of Jim performing any of the gory images running through his head.

"I'm not all bad, you know." Jim said softly from the shadows of John's room.

"I know that."

"I don't think you do."

"What are you doing here?" John asked sitting up.

"Came to apologize."

"You think that's enough to make this better?"

"What if I were to show you how sorry I am?" Jim asked, licking his lips before slipping onto the bed. He pulled the covers down and got on all fours, his face directly above John's groin.

"Jim." John said warningly.

"Let me." Jim said tugging down the waistband of John's pyjama bottoms. He pulled them down and John's erection sprang free. He wasted no time taking John deep, sucking him hard and fast, tongue pressing firmly against the underside. John was groaning, both his hands fisted in Jim's hair as Jim worked his prick, moaning around it and causing the vibrations to surge through John. He dropped down against the pillows and gripped the headboard, already so close.

Jim grabbed the lube from John's nightstand and slicked up his fingers. They pressed against John's hole and moved in small circles until he unclenched and fluttered open. They slipped in and moved against the rhythm of Jim's mouth. The contrasting sensations had John writhing, thrashing against the pillows until he came suddenly and violently, his hips thrusting up into that mouth over and over until he had nothing left.

John was jerked awake and sat up, hissing in pain from the strain it put on his stomach. He glanced down to find his hand grasped tightly around his substantial erection, leaking freely. He groaned and finished himself off quickly before turning on his side, feeling pathetic and deflated. With his clean hand, he reached for his phone and called.

"John?" Jim picked up on the second ring.

"Alright Jim, you win. You were right. I miss you. I want to see you, tonight if possible."

"Of course. I'm sending the car."

"Okay."

XXXX

"Hi." Jim said when he opened the door. He pulled John through and instantly crushed him against it, kissing him hungrily.

"I'm still angry with you." John murmured against Jim's lips.

"I know."

"You're an arsehole."

"I know."

"And you haven't even apologized."

"I know."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

"I know."

"Can you please say something else?" John asked in annoyance.

Jim smirked and kissed John some more. "Fuck me."

"Jim, my stitches haven't even come out yet."

"We'll be careful." Jim insisted.

"Jim."

"Please Johnny, I need it. Take me. Fuck me now." Jim rolled his hips, his cock sliding against John's. John groaned with resignation and grabbed Jim's arm, leading him to the bedroom.

"Strip." He ordered and Jim complied, pulling off his pyjamas quickly and sprawling out on the bed. John divested too, taking care with unbuttoning his shirt. Jim scooted over and slipped it off his shoulders. His fingers traced the long scar across John's abdomen as John yanked open his trousers and pushed them down.

He didn't take much time preparing Jim, just quickly shoved three fingers in straight away, making Jim hiss in pain. He worked his fingers quickly until Jim felt stretched and then pulled them away. He applied an ample amount of lube to his prick, hoping it might compensate for the lack of preperation, and then shoved in. Jim was on the edge of the bed while John stood. He barely had to move his hips to thrust into Jim like this. He had his hands braced on the bed while Jim's legs were parted, his knees clasped to John's side.

Jim had his hands up above his head, twisted in the sheets and John fucked him hard but slow, taking his time. "Yes, Johnny yes. I needed this so bad. Haven't thought about anything else all week." Jim's words came out broken as he threw his head back.

Each thrust was sharp as John snapped his hips. Jim moved one hand down and began stroking himself faster than John's thrusts in. John grabbed Jim's hips and pulled his entire body down to meet him as they collided together. Jim was already coming undone, moaning John's name over and over as he jerked himself with twisting upstrokes. John would have been close too if he hadn't come earlier that night.

John started moving as quickly as he dared, always cautious of popping his stitches open. Jim came with a loud gasp as his come shot out and spilled over his chest, all the way up to his chin. His hole fluttered and spasmed around John's cock as he shoved into the overwhelming tightness. Jim's legs held him tighter until John came, hips stuttering uncontrollably through his release.

John pulled out and dropped onto the bed next to Jim. The other man grabbed a few tissues and cleaned up the mess he'd made all over his front. He'd missed a bit at the hollow of his neck and John dragged his finger though it and brought it to his lips. Jim groaned at the sight of John sucking the come off his finger and rolled over to fit his body against his.

"Don't do that again Johnny." Jim said after a moment of silence passed between them.

"Do what?"

"Push me away like that. There's no space between us, we own each other, don't create one. Don't leave me like that again."

"Well then don't send assassins after my best friend."

"Everything would have been fine if you'd hadn't gone blundering in there like an idiot. "

"Jim, just say you're sorry."

"I am. I am sorry that you got hurt. It wasn't my intention. I'm not sorry for what I did though."

"Jim."

"What? I'm not."

"Jim, you have to stop trying to kill Sherlock."

"Why?"

"Because if you keep trying one of these times you might succeed and if you ever did kill Sherlock, I'd never forgive you. So you have to decide what's more important to you."

Jim was quiet for a moment, contemplating this before he spoke. "You have no idea, do you?"

"About what?"

"How much I need this, need you. I need distractions. For a long time Sherlock was my distraction. I'd never met anyone who could keep up with me intellectually before. Mycroft might have been one except he hardly comes out to play, the lazy bastard. And then there's you. I'm fairly certain loving you will destroy me, tear me apart from the inside out. You've ruined me John Watson, completely ruined me. Do you understand that? I can't even go a week without you. You're under my skin, inside my lungs, over every inch of me. So don't disappear on me like that."

"You knew where I was." John pointed out

"Yes but you weren't here, were you? I need you here, by my side. Always John, always. So I don't care how angry you get with me, don't go away like that again. I can't stand it."

"I won't. I'm not going anywhere." John promised, running his hand up and down Jim's back soothingly.

"I'm sorry John, I'm so sorry." Jim said, burying his face in the crook of John's neck.

"I forgive you."


	12. Chapter 12

Jim had not seen John in over two weeks outside of CCTV footage, which felt to him mostly unacceptable. John had put a ban on them seeing each other after they'd gotten a little carried away during sex and popped John's stitches. Now Jim was being held at arm's length and he hated it.

As best he could, he threw himself into work for those two weeks, knowing he wouldn't be able to touch John again until the stitches came out. It was like being punished and it made Jim moody. John was usually the thing that calmed him down and yet Jim couldn't see him. He did his job to perfection, pulling off more crimes in those two weeks than he had in the entire time he and John had been seeing each other.

But it wasn't enough; it left him restless, not fulfilled. The only communication he had with John was through texts and phone calls. He'd never been so randy in all his life and this forced separation was driving him crazy.

_I miss you –M_

**Just three more days and the stitches come out.**

_Let's have dinner. –M_

**If I thought for one moment you could keep your hands to yourself, I might say yes.**

_I'll be good. I just need to see you. –M_

**No.**

_Just dinner, I promise –M_

**No.**

_Dinner and light petting –M_

**Jim, I'm serious. No.**

_Dinner and I suck you off for dessert. –M_

**You do realize you're negotiating in the wrong direction, right?**

_Come on! Please. See you've got me begging for it. Please Johnny. –M_

**I'm sorry but no.**

_Bitch. You're such a tease Johnny. –M_

**Jim, this is for the best. If I come over now and something happens to my stitches, it could mean more time apart. Big picture.**

_But I'm horny NOW! –M_

**Then talk dirty to me. ;)**

_Seriously? –M_

**Yes. Just this once.**

_Are you alone? –M_

**Yes, why?**

Jim had just received the replying text when he was already dialing John's number. John answered on the third ring. "Jim?"

"Need to hear you." Jim said as he walked into his room. He climbed onto the bed and lied flat on his back, the phone pressed against his ear.

"Fine, but if you ask me what I'm wearing, I'm hanging up." John threatened but Jim could tell he was smiling.

"Two toned blue jumper, the jeans that are tight enough to show off your arse and brown shoes."

"You do realize spying on me is a bit creepy."

"I take what I can get Johnny." Jim shrugged and unzipped his fly.

"So we're doing this over the phone then?" John asked sounding amused by the idea.

"Yep."

John exhaled loudly and Jim could hear him shuffling about.

"Take your top off." Jim requested while he shoved his trousers and pants down and out of the way. There was more shuffling of John's end.

"It's off. Now what?" John asked.

"Are you hard?" Jim asked, stroking his half-erect dick until it was stiff in his hand.

"Not really."

"Then we'll have to fix that, won't we?" Jim dropped his voice a few octaves until it was that low, breathy sound John liked. "Why don't I tell you what I would do to you if you were there?"

"If you'd like." John said rather indifferently.

"Well, I'd start by yanking off the rest of your clothes, you know how I love to strip you bare." Jim continued stroking himself languidly as he talked. "Get naked for me Johnny."

He heard John moving around and the audible sound of a zipper being undone. "Honestly, this isn't doing much for me."

"You're not trying, besides we're just getting started. Put your fingers in your mouth and suck them."

With a little huff of breath, John complied. Jim listened to the sound of John's lips wrapped around his fingers, his tongue sliding over them. Jim bit back a moan and tugged on his prick a bit rougher. "Now take them out and rub them in a circle over your nipple, pretending it's my tongue."

John let out a soft moan, it wasn't much but it was something. "Now pull it, imagine it's my teeth."

"Jim." John groaned.

"Hard yet?"

"Getting there."

"Good. Put the phone on speaker, you're going to need both hands for this." The press of a button and Jim heard the crackling of the room as he was put on speaker. "Grab the lube you keep in the top drawer of your bedside table."

"How-"

"Please." Jim rolled his eyes. "Just do it."

"Someone's bossy."

"What can I say Johnny? When I don't get any, I get cranky." Jim said, putting his own phone on speaker so he could match John's movements. He grabbed his lubricant and slicked up both his hands, rubbing them together to warm up the cold gel.

"No wonder you were blowing up buildings before I came along." John chuckled and Jim could hear the snap of the bottle opening.

"Nah, that's just fun. Now, back to business, one hand on your cock, the other trailing up and down the cleft of your arse." Jim instructed while doing the same to himself.

"Fuck…" John said drawing the word out. Jim could hear the slick slide of John touching himself and it made him salivate with want.

"Tell me what you're doing." Jim requested. "Describe it to me."

John's breathing had become labored. "Right hand on my dick, stroking slowly, thumb over the head. Other hand is down lower, thumb rubbing over my perineum. I just slipped two fingers inside myself."

"Oh God John." Jim moaned, following John's lead and inserting two slippery fingers inside himself.

"God I wish I could kiss you right now."

"Me too." Jim licked his lips, his mouth suddenly going dry.

"Hmmmmph."

"Prostate?" Jim guessed from the keening noise John had just made.

"Yes." John said somewhat breathlessly.

"Ok, now listen very closely. Make your hand into a tight fists and thrust up into it. Pretend it's my hole you're fucking, not your hand. Are you doing it?"

"Oh fuck. Yes." John's voice came out shaky and there was some rustling from the other end and the sound of bedsprings creaking.

"Johnny." Jim moaned, finger fucking himself in time to the sound of John's bed creaking, grinding his hips down against his digits.

"Shit Jim, I'm already close. Oh God, oh god."

"That's it John, fuck me. Fuck me as hard as you like."

"Jim."

"Come for me."

"Oh hell."

"I'm almost there." Jim was wanking himself furiously as he slipped another finger in, brushing that sweet spot over and over.

"Fuck Jim, I'm there."

"Me too. Just let go, I'm there too. Come with me."

"Ungfh Jim." John shouted.

"Ooooh." Jim moaned helplessly as his release spilled all over his hand.

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of John panting. Then a bit of movement as Jim assumed John had grabbed something to clean himself up with. Jim took a moment before he gently eased his fingers out of himself and then put his hands on his chest, feeling his heart racing.

"I feel so dirty." John broke the silence, his voice slurring.

"Yeah you do." Jim replied smugly.

"Oh shut up."

"Come over here and make me." Jim challenged.

"Or I could accomplish that by just hanging up the phone." John pointed out.

"Hurry up and get better. This pales in comparison to the real thing."

"The moment the stitches are out, I'll come running." John promised.

"Hm, maybe we should plan on meeting at a beach and run towards each other in slow motion." Jim joked, taking the phone off speaker and pressing it close to his ear. It made it seem like John was closer than he actually was.

"Have you ever had sex on a beach?"

"No."

"I wouldn't recommend it. Sand gets everywhere and I mean everywhere."

"Why Doctor Watson, I never. Sex in a public place. What kind of depraved pervert are you?" Jim asked pretending to be aghast while stifling his laughter.

"If we stop shagging in public, there goes half our sex life."

"True, true."

"Alright, well I really need a shower."

"Fine, if you feel you must." Jim sighed.

"I must." John confirmed. "Remember, three days and then I come running."

"I'll be waiting with open arms and a very erect penis."

John snorted and Jim couldn't help grinning. "Till then."

"Till then."

XXXX

John came home from getting his stitches out and went upstairs to change. He put on the jeans Jim had said accentuated his arse and a tight-fitted t-shirt. He didn't bother grabbing anything else, knowing that Jim had a toothbrush and a razor in his bathroom that were specifically meant for John. There was no point in grabbing pyjamas either, since he knew if he needed them, which was doubtful, Jim preferred when John borrowed his clothes.

He walked back downstairs to find Sherlock fiddling with the telly. It took John a moment to register that Sherlock was putting in a DVD. When he turned to look at John, his face fell. "You're heading out?"

"That was the plan, yeah. Why?"

"Nothing." Sherlock grumbled, abandoned his work on the DVD player and flopping down into his chair. "It's not important."

"No, what is it?"

"Just forget it." Sherlock snapped and turned his face away. "Have a nice time."

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked going over to the telly and picking up the DVD case where Sherlock had left it. His eyes widened when he read the title. "Doctor Who? But you never want to watch Doctor Who. You called it stupid and improbable."

"It is."

"It's science fiction Sherlock, it's supposed to be improbable." John argued yet again. "But why is it here?"

"I just thought, I should have known you'd have other plans, it was stupid." Sherlock waved it off, reaching for his violin.

"Sherlock." John said staring at his flatmate in awe. Sherlock played over him to drown him out so John raised his voice. "Sherlock, Are we celebrating getting my stitches out or something?"

"If you want." Sherlock shrugged indifferently and went back to plucking out random chords. "I already ordered from your favorite Thai place. I'll just put yours in the fridge for when you get home."

John watched Sherlock for a moment, then his eyes lowered to the DVD case in his hand and then back up to his flatmate. "You really thought a lot about this."

"It's not a big deal. Enjoy your evening." Sherlock replied coldly.

"Sherlock, I'll stay. It's fine, I'll stay."

"Don't do me any favors."

"No, I want to stay. You went to all this trouble."

"No John really – "

"Really. I want to stay. This was really…nice of you." John said more than a little surprised by how thoughtful the gesture was. "Just let me cancel my other plans."

"You don't have to –"

"Just give me a moment." John pulled out his phone and texted Jim. He knew Jim had been looking forward to them being able to finally see each other again but one more day couldn't hurt. Besides he couldn't just leave Sherlock after he'd gone to all this trouble. Sherlock had been very doting and helpful the last two weeks, making John tea and actually doing the shopping once. He couldn't just abandoned him.

**Something came up, can't make it tonight. I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you, anything you want tomorrow, I promise.**

When he was done, he went over and put in one of the DVDs. The doorbell rang and Sherlock put down his violin to go answer it, fishing his wallet out of his coat pocket. John made himself comfortable on the sofa with the remote in his hand. Sherlock came back with two bags worth of Thai food and sat down next to John. He unloaded the bags onto the coffee table and put anything meant for John in front of him. John grabbed a container at random and started eating directly out of it. No point in dirtying up dishes he would just end up cleaning himself.

He chose the episode The Doctor's Wife and they sat in companionable silence while they ate. Sherlock had ordered way too much food and soon John had to push the cartons away before he exploded. He leaned back against the sofa and started up the next episode. Sherlock put down his carton as well and moved so he was lying sideways on the couch, with his back against the armrest.

Sherlock had actually been relatively quiet throughout the episode when usually he had a tendency to shout at the Telly when he didn't agree with something. John looked at him for a moment, wondering why he was behaving so abnormally. Sherlock kept his eyes glued to the telly and soon John gave up, refocusing on watching the show.

The first thing he registered was the pang of cold under his thigh. Sherlock had casually slipped his feet under John's leg for warmth. It took everything in him not to yelp at how icy Sherlock's feet were. "You know, you could avoid all this by putting on socks once in awhile."

"But then I'd have to get up." Sherlock said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

John sighed but didn't say anything else. By the third episode Sherlock had out his phone and was texting away. John tried not to be too bothered by it but it was a little upsetting, especially when John had canceled his plans to be here. But then he realized there was really only one person Sherlock would text like that.

"Go ahead." John said getting up off the couch.

"Sorry?" Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Lestrade has a case. Go ahread. I relinquish you from your flatmate duties of celebratory meals and telly."

"Are you sure?" Sherlock asked, already up off the sofa and grabbing his coat.

"Yes. Go be brilliant." John waved him towards the door.

"You could…" Sherlock stopped and chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "You could come with me, if you wanted."

"No thanks, I'm done in."

"Right." Sherlock nodded, tying his scarf around his neck. "Doesn't sound very interesting anyway."

"Yes it does." John crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen doorway. "You wouldn't be going if it wasn't interesting. It's fine. I'll be there for the next one."

"Good. See you later then."

"Bye." John gave a slight wave as Sherlock dashed out the door. John went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea before heading up to his room. He thought about calling Jim, seeing if he still wanted to meet up but that felt somewhat unfair. John hadn't been playing favorites, not really. But he was trying to mend fences with Sherlock and this had felt like a step in the right direction.

So instead of calling Jim, he went up to his room to drink his tea and maybe read a book before turning in early. Those plans were dashed when a certain Consulting Criminal was spread out on his bed, sitting up against the headboard in an impeccable suit.

"You two are adorable." Jim said bitterly as he examined his nails. "It's really quite heartwarming to see you two have reconciled your differences and are able to cuddle up on the sofa."

"We weren't cuddling and for that matter what are you doing here?"

"Oh just dropped in." Moriarty shrugged, uncrossing his legs and slithering off the bed. "Wondering if I was going to hear those ever present moans and gasps from when you're fucking someone floating up from downstairs."

"You thought Sherlock and I were going to have sex?" John raised an eyebrow, the idea of it sounding ridiculous to him.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Were you jealous?" John asked grabbing Jim's lapels and pushing him up against the wall.

"Maybe."

"You think Sherlock and I were just so overcome with lust from gorging ourselves on Thai food and watching Doctor Who that we couldn't keep our hands off each other?" John asked trying not to laugh.

"I know how you feel about him." Jim said quietly.

"Hmm, yes." John said ghosting his lips over Jim's neck. "And you also know how he feels about me."

"Actually-"

"-And," John interrupted, pushing on of his thighs in between Jim's, pressing it against Jim's groin. "You also know how I feel about you."

Jim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Say it. Please."

John closed the space between them and captured Jim's lips in a searing kiss. "I love you." John said after a moment or two of rough kissing. "You know I do." He ran his fingers through Jim's hair, thumb stroking behind his ear.

"You were supposed to come running." Jim reminded him, fingers playing with the hem of John's jumper.

"I know, I'm sorry. But you've got to go."

"What?" Jim asked, taken aback. "Why?"

"Because Sherlock could come back any minute and because I said I'd make it up to you tomorrow."

"It's past twelve, so technically it is tomorrow." Jim reasoned, pointing at the clock next to John's bed.

"Jim, there's a reason we don't do this here. Why don't we go to your flat, we can get a cab right now."

"Nope, too long, can't wait." Jim said attacking John's neck vigorously.

"Jim." John said grabbing a fistful of Jim's hair and yanking him back. "Do you think I don't know what's been going on? All these little stunts you've been pulling."

"I really don't know what you mean."

"You want Sherlock to find out. You want him to know about us so you can watch my whole world unravel. But then I guess that's what you do best, right Jim? You deal in destruction."

"Well you're never going to tell him, are you?" Jim spat angrily. "Maybe I'm sick of being your shameful little secret."

"Jim, your whole world is one big secret, it's what you do!" John countered.

"And what do you think Sherlock would do if he knew the truth, he'd throw you out on your arse and leave me to pick up the pieces just like he did before. We're all each other has Johnny, don't you get that? Stop acting like he gives a fuck about you because we both know that if he knew about the nasty little things you've been doing, he'd never speak to you again."

"Shut up Jim."

"You always get angry when you know I'm right. Sooner or later the truth is going to come out and I'm going to be all you have left. Why not just tell him and get it over with. He'll turn you away but I won't. I never will."

"Jim, I am warning you, if you breathe so much as one word of this to Sherlock—"

"Why won't you just admit to it Johnny? Don't you get tired of all this hiding? All the sneaking around? Just get the fucker over with so we can actually be together."

"And you'd like that wouldn't you Jim? Have me tell everyone who I've been seeing so I can be shunned by everyone in my life. Then you'd have me completely and you'd keep me like some kind of fucking trophy. Well no, fuck that. It's not happening."

"Of course I want that. I want you to myself. I. Don't. Share."

"I'm not asking you to. Sherlock's my friend and he's never going to be more than that. But you, you're the one, the only one that I'm fucking, ok? But I'm not choosing between my friendship with Sherlock and whatever the hell this is between us. So stop trying to force me to."

"Why? Because you'd picked him?" Jim snarled.

"I don't know. But it's you that I want, it's you that's giving me this." John shoved his hips against Jim's so he could feel the bulge in his trousers. "So don't make me choose because I don't have an answer. But I know what I want right now and that's you."

Jim crushed their mouths together and John groaned from the intensity of it. Jim pushed them off the wall and they landed against the bookcase, a few books toppling down around them. John shoved them again and they tumbled into his bed. Their hands were frantic as they yanked at each other's clothes, trying to strip each other quickly. John grabbed a hold of Jim's shirt and ripped it open, buttons going sailing everywhere. He bit his way down Jim's chest and stomach while his fingers worked on opening his trousers.

When Jim was naked from the waist down, John got busy undoing his own, shoving them down and out of the way. He kicked them off and reached for the lube on his nightstand, slicking up his fingers quickly. No matter how fast he went, it wasn't soon enough. He took Jim into his mouth and sucked him as his fingers stretched him open.

"John, hurry." Jim said, feeling the same sense of urgency that John felt. "Oh God, John."

John was up to three fingers and had Jim thrashing on the bed as his mouth sucked him steadily. "John please. Fuck me. Fuck me NOW." Jim begged, both his hands twisted in John's hair. John pulled off with a pop and slipped his fingers from Jim's entrance. He grabbed Jim's legs and put them around his waist as he entered him with one sharp thrust, burying to the hilt.

"Oh god." Jim threw his head back and squeezed his legs tighter around John's middle.

"Jim." John moaned as he started moving, fucking him hard and fast, each thrust more desperate than the last.

John still had his jumper on and it rubbed against where Jim's shirt was open. John had never felt such need before, he needed to get closer, deeper. The sounds he was making were so visceral that he didn't even recognized that they were coming out of his own mouth.

"Yes Johnny yes." Jim moaned as John fucked him into the mattress. Jim snaked his hand between them and started jerking himself while his other hand was still holding onto John's hair tightly. "Fuck me. Yes."

They were both so close when the door downstairs opened. John froze, unsure what to do.

"If you stop, I will kill you." Jim threatened in a low hiss.

John covered Jim's mouth with his hand but started to move again, slower this time. Jim groaned in frustration but the sound was muffled against John's hand. Jim came first as he stroked himself to completion. With a few final thrusts, John followed him, biting down on Jim's collarbone to stifle any noise he might have made.

John pulled out and reached down to grab Jim's trousers off the floor. He threw them at the Consulting Criminal. "Window." He said nodding at it. "There's a fire escape."

"Seriously?" Jim said as if going down the fire escape were demeaning.

"Jim, please." John pleaded as he put on his own trousers and zipped them up.

Jim rolled his eyes and slipped on his trousers. "Anything for you Johnny."

"I love you." John whispered before giving Jim a quick kiss goodbye.

"You'd better." Jim said buttoning what he remained of his shirt, which ended up being only one button. He blew John a kiss before disappearing out the window.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a hole, a gap, a space, a chasm. Sherlock could feel it, the lack of presence of a certain army doctor. Since he was not used to needing people, he felt the absence stronger than he normally would have. John had always just been there, or at least it had seemed that way. But now he wasn't and Sherlock was at a loss for the best course of action to take.

All he knew was that John wasn't home; the flat was quiet, empty and any attempt he made to fill it only added to the maddening silence. How John had invaded his life so successfully, Sherlock would never know, but he had to do something about it. He grabbed his coat and scarf before heading out, slipping them on as he hailed a taxi.

XXXX

John walked through the door of Jim's flat and almost slipped on the comical amount of rose petals covering the floor. "Jim?" he called out, toeing off his shoes and leaving them by the door. He shucked off his jacket and laid it on one of the kitchen chairs as he passed, heading towards the bedroom.

XXXX

Sherlock's mind was racing as he sat in the taxi, staring out the window. He usually preferred to have some sort of plan, a course of action in mind, but he was so thoroughly out of his depths here that he didn't have the slightest inkling of what to do. He spent the considerably long cab ride going over the facts of his relationship with John, everything leading up to that first initial kiss, all the way to sitting together on the couch, with John not shying away from Sherlock's physical contact. It had to mean something that even after all this time, John didn't mind Sherlock touching him, didn't it?

XXXX

"You know, you don't have to try so hard." John said when he finally found Jim, lying naked on his bed, surrounded by more rose petals. John made his way over and stood by the bed while Jim sat up, rose petals falling delicately as he did so. John moved so he was standing between Jim's parted legs, with Jim grinning up at him.

"Sometimes I like making the effort." Jim shrugged, his fingers dancing along the top of John's trousers. "I don't have occasion to, very often."

John brushed his fingers through Jim's hair and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry about last time. I made a promise and I should have kept it."

"It's fine." Jim said placing a few soft kisses on John's belly.

"It's not. I don't want you thinking you're less important than him. You were right, you picked me up when I was at a pretty low point and that means the world to me.  _You_ mean the world to me."

Jim stared up at him, chin resting on his stomach, arms moving to wrap around him. "I know that. But eventually people are going to find out and I'd like to know where I stand. Or more accurately, where you stand. When they draw the line in the sand, because you know they will, which side are you going to be on?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, I don't want to have to think about it. I want to enjoy the fact that we can just be together, with no complications."

XXXX

Sherlock threw the money at the driver and slammed the door behind him. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and made his way to the front door. It took a few seconds of pounding on it before someone finally answered. Sherlock pushed his way past and began his search for his missing flamate.

XXXX

Jim unbuckled John's belt and pulled it free from the loops. He took his time undoing John's jeans, flicking open the button with his thumb and then slowly pulling down the zip. John still had his hands running through Jim's hair, the pads of his fingers gently massaging his scalp.

Jim tugged down John's trousers and then brought his face forward, mouthing John's prick through his underwear. He licked at it slowly but firmly, a patch of wetness forming as the cotton rubbed against John's erection. John tilted his head back and groaned, raking his fingers up and down Jim's back.

XXXX

"Where is he?" Sherlock demanded to know. He'd been seized by two men and taken to the study.

"Who?"

"Oh don't play dumb, you're not good at it." Sherlock said impatiently. "You know who."

"I really don't."

"John. Where is John?"

"Well he isn't here." Mycroft said, leaning back in his chair. "I have no idea why you think he would be."

"So you're telling me you and John haven't been sleeping together?" Sherlock stared at his brother accusingly.

"That's what I'm telling you."

"It has to be you." Sherlock dragged his fingers roughly through his curls. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Oh Sherlock." Mycroft said, giving his younger brother a sympathetic look.

XXXX

John pulled his jumper up over his head, followed quickly by his undershirt. Jim eased John's boxers down his legs until they dropped to his ankles. Jim ran his hands up and down John's chest, over his shoulders and down his back. He traced the new scar on John's abdomen and then kissed along it.

John slid down and crawled onto the bed while Jim moved back to allow him room. They kissed each other unhurriedly, their lips never parting as they moved across the bed and settled. John positioned himself on top of Jim and started rocking his hips, their groans ripping through the relative quiet as skin rubbed against skin.

"Do it again." Jim requested, hands grabbing at John's arse.

XXXX

"There is, dear brother, another very obvious answer to your question, in fact it's the right answer."

"And I didn't think of it, me?" Sherlock said indignantly, pulling his coat in tighter as a shield.

"You can be so blissfully ignorant sometimes. You delete things you don't like or you don't find useful. I'm certain you've come to this conclusion yourself, unless you've been ignoring the facts, because you don't want to know."

"Oh stop talking in circles and just tell me." Sherlock growled in frustration.

"Are you sure?" Mycroft raised a concerned eyebrow. "I warn you now, if you continue prying into this, you will not like what you find."

"I can't think of anything worse than you having a relationship with John." Sherlock responded in disgust.

"It's worse." His older brother confirmed. "This is your last chance to stay in the dark."

"No, I have to know." Sherlock stood a little straighter, steeling himself for whatever was to come.

Mycroft took a set of keys from this pocket and unlocked his top desk drawer. Pulling out a substantially large file, he slid it over the desk towards Sherlock and waited. Sherlock took a few tentative steps forward and took the file. Somewhat reluctantly, he sat in the chair opposite his brother and opened it.

Sherlock Holmes was not a man easily shocked. In fact he could probably count the number of times someone had shocked him on one hand. But as he flipped over the first photo, his heart almost stopped from the sheer magnitude of his astonishment. His hands shook as he held the photo and he closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to push all emotion aside and concentrate on the facts.

It was unquestionably John with his arms around someone's neck, pulling them close. They were standing in front of the cinema Sherlock knew was only a few blocks from Baker Street. John's companion had short, dark hair and even though Sherlock couldn't see his face, he recognized him almost instantly.

"No." he breathed, the word hardly making it's way out of his mouth. He flipped to the next picture. It was just moments later and Moriarty was leading John towards a cab. John was looking at the other man but Moriarty was distinctively looking at the camera with just the hint of a smirk on his face.

The pictures continued like that, with John and Moriarty in a varying array of locations. The first picture would always be somewhat romantic, with the second one of Moriarty mugging for the camera. It seemed that John was unaware that they were being photographed while Moriarty knew perfectly well. Was this all just some sick joke or was he merely taunting Sherlock?

XXXX

"Oh. Oh God." Jim gasped as John slipped in a forth finger. John was now sitting up against where the bed met the wall, with Jim straddling his lap. His hand was reaching around to open Jim up as the continued grinding their pelvises against each other. Jim was practically riding John's fingers while he clung to John's shoulders.

"Jesus." John swore as Jim pushed his hips down roughly. John curled his arm around Jim and rolled them so Jim was on his back. He continued pumping his fingers in and out of Jim's hole while he attached his lips to one of Jim's nipples, swirling his tongue around it and then tugging at it with his teeth.

"Johnny." Jim moaned, arching up off the bed.

John mouthed his way down Jim's chest, placing sucking kisses against his skin, up the side of his cock and then down his thigh. His fingers never faltered the rhythm, continuing to stretch Jim open.

"Johnny, you're killing me." Jim groaned as John made a lovebite on Jim's hip.

"I feel bad that I hurried through it last time, so I'm not rushing." John said simply before licking a stripe up Jim's cock.

"You can rush a little." Jim said with his jaw clenched.

John laughed and slid up Jim's body so their lips could meet. Jim cradled the back of John's head and held him so he couldn't pull away. They continued kissing as John eased out his fingers and replaced them with his prick. He inched in slowly as Jim pulled up his knees so they were hugging John's side. They moved in unison, Jim pushing down to meet John's thrusts in.

"You're bloody gorgeous like this." John sighed as he rested his forehead against his lover's, staring into his deep brown eyes with pupils blown wide.

XXXX

"How do I know you haven't doctored these photos to throw me off?" Sherlock asked, clinging to his last bit of hope. He turned over a photo of John and Moriarty having intercourse in a back alley of what Sherlock recognized as John's regular pub. It made his stomach churn and if he had eaten anything that day, there would have been a good chance that it could have ended up all over Mycroft's top secret papers.

"I assure you, these photos have not be altered in any way. Do you really think I would carry on an affair with John? I know how important he is to you."

"Brotherly affection? That's your excuse? You expect me to believe that you'd put my feelings above your own desires?" Sherlock scoffed.

"I believe John has been very good for you, he's made quite an impact in your time together. I would never do anything to jeopardize that." Mycroft said with what Sherlock supposed was the closest thing he had to sincerity.

"So if my  _feelings_ are such a high priority for you, why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" Sherlock asked, closing the file and chucking it onto Mycroft's desk.

"I didn't want to say anything until I knew what this was. It was a delicate situation. I wasn't sure if John was being coerced or bribed in some fashion."

"And?" Sherlock wasn't sure which he wanted. The idea that John might be doing all of this against his will was equal parts as sickening as the idea that he might actually enjoy sex with Sherlock's arch-enemy.

"As far as we can tell, he is a willing participant in this…" Mycroft seemed to be searching for the least damaging word. "Relationship."

Sherlock sucked his lips between his teeth and bit them, turning his face away from his brother. "How do you know?" he asked, keeping his voice as level as possible.

"Transcripts." Mycroft said opening the top drawer again. He pulled out another file. "And recordings of some of their conversations."

"You bugged John's phone?" Sherlock wasn't sure why he was surprised. Privacy wasn't something Mycroft seemed to understand or maybe he just felt it wasn't something people deserved.

"I deemed it necessary when the relationship with Moriarty was discovered." Mycroft explained pushing the file towards Sherlock. He tried to ignore it but his hand was twitching with the need to see what was there. What could John and Moriarty possibly have to talk about?

"How long has this been going on?" Sherlock asked, leaning in and grabbing the file, flipping it open.

"You know perfectly well how long, you know the signs of John being in a new relationship."

Sherlock huffed out a breath but didn't say anything. He started reading the first transcript.

XXXX

"Don't come." John grunted, hovering on the brink of orgasm. "Don't come yet."

Jim whined but took his hand away from his dick.

"Oh God Jim, oh fuck." John cursed, smashing his lips against Jim's as he came deep inside the other man, his vision blurring. John draped himself over Jim, exhausted.

"Uh, Johnny." Jim said tapping the army doctor on the shoulder.

"Right." John said giving him a quick kiss and then getting off him. He scooted lower on the bed, in between Jim's parted legs. He trailed his hands up and down Jim's thighs a few times before dropping his head down and taking Jim into his mouth. He wedged his hands under Jim's body and grabbed his arse, pushing his hips up and allowing Jim to thrust up into his mouth but still setting the pace.

"Oh fucking buggering hell." Jim's hand shot up behind him and he gripped the headboard as John pushed Jim's lower body up so his dick slipped in between John's lips. His other hand was placed loosely on the back of John's head as John sucked him.

John stopped moving his hands but kept them so they were gently squeezing Jim's arse. He moved one hand so he could easily slip three fingers into Jim's stretched hole, brushing his fingers over that spot relentlessly. He concentrated on bobbing his head up and down, cheeks hollowed, as he worked the shaft with Jim writhing underneath him. 

"Johnny, holy fuck, Johnny." Jim's hand in John's hair tightened as his balls were drawn up and he got ready to come.

Jim threw his head back and with a loud cry, emptied himself inside John's mouth. John continued to suck him through his orgasm, swallow all of it. After he had pulled off, he dropped his head onto Jim's thigh and made lazy patterns in his hip, tracing the mark he'd made earlier.

XXXXX

[Date: 21/01/12. 6:15 PM.]

**Phone Conversation recorded between JW and JM**

JW: No Jim, absolutely not.

JM: What? Why not?

JW: I am not letting you whip me, I don't care how skilled you say you are at it.

JM: But you'd look so pretty.

JW: No, it's really not my thing.

JM: And if it's mine?

JW: Then that's just too bad for you, isn't it? As the person who would be lying there getting whipped, I can say with certainty that that is not going to happen.

JM: You really are no fun Johnny.

JW: I know, it must be terrible for you.

JM: It really is.

JW: So should I still come over or are you angry with me now?

JM: No, come over. I'll suffer through your boring, ordinary sex.

JW: If sex with me is so boring, maybe you should get reacquainted with you hands tonight.

JM: I didn't mean that. You know I like it. Just come over.

JW: Sure you still want me to?

JM: Of course I do.

JW: Fine, I'll be there soon.

JM: Can't wait.

 

[Date: 29/01/12 11:35 PM]

**Phone Conversation recorded between JW and JM**

JM: Can't you leave work?

JW: No I can't.

JM: But I'm bored.

JW: I'm sure someone as clever as you can come up with something to occupy your time.

JM: Oh, I can think of lots of things but they all involve you, my bed, hot wax and a cock ring.

JW: Jesus.

JM: See? See what I'm going through? Just tell them a family member died and come over.

JW: I can't Jim. We're understaffed as it is. As soon as I'm done with work, I'll come over.

JM: That's hours from now.

JW: Well then find something else to do until I can come over.

JM: Fine

 

[Date: 29/01/12 11:45 PM]

**Phone Conversation recorded between JW and JM**

JW: So apparently there's a gas leak in the building and everyone had to evacuate.

JM: You don't say.

JW: You wouldn't know anything about that, would you Jim?

JM: And if I did?

JW: You've got to stop doing stuff like this. Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.

JM: Oh no, not the morality speech again. Honestly, you've given it so many times I could probably recite it better than you can.

JW: Jim, you can't just do whatever the hell you want and expect me to go along with it.

JM: So you're not coming over then?

JW: Do you have a terribly compelling reason why I should?

JM: Look at all the trouble I went to. Besides, what else are you going to do?

JW: I have to do the shopping, laundry, clean the flat, lots of things.

JM: Oh how exciting.

JW: Not everyone has minions to do these sorts of things for them.

JM: You should get some, they're terribly convenient.

JW: Jim

JM: Oh just come over, I'm more exciting than anything else you've got planned.

JW: That's not a reason

JM: Fine, I'll let you do anything you want to me and I mean literally anything.

[Silence.]

JM: John?

JW: I'll be over when I'm done with the shopping.

JM: Buy lube. And Jelly babies.

[Hangs up]

 

XXXX

"We can't go on like this forever Johnny."

"I know. I just wish I knew what to do about it." John sighed and sat up, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Tea?"

He didn't wait for an answer before he pulled on his dressing gown and left the room. Jim stared after him for a moment before heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up. A few moments later he joined John in the kitchen, standing behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist. He rested his chin on John's shoulder and together they watched the kettle boil.

"Do you really think tea is going to help you make a decision?" Jim asked turning his head and nibbling at John's ear.

"Tea can do anything." John smiled and leaned against Jim, pressing their bodies together.

"It can't make up your mind for you."

"I know."

XXXX

(Date: 11/02/12 6:22 PM]

**Text Message Conversation between JW and JM**

_You said you'd be over by now –M_

**Sorry, got held up. Unavoidable.**

_Hurry up –M_

**You do realize I'm not at your beck and call, right? I'll get there when I can.**

_Sorry. –M_

_It's just thinking about taking your thick, hot cock down to the root has made me a little impatient –M_

**Oh God Jim. Seriously? I'm at a crime scene!**

_So? –M_

**So stop talking like that. You do realize that standing over a dead body is not an appropriate time to have an erection, right?**

_Then come over! I'll slip my cock into that tight, greedy arse of yours and fuck you until you can't walk straight. –M_

**You're a wanker.**

_I know –M_

**On my way. You better be naked when I get there.**

**  
**

[Date: 16/02/12 4:02 AM]

**Text Message Conversation between JW and JM**

_Can't sleep – M_

**Try.**

_It seems you're awake too –M_

**I wasn't. But it seems SOMEONE put my text alert noise as a very loud police siren sound. Bit difficult to sleep through.**

_Fancy that. Well since you're awake, you should come over. –M_

**Jim, it's 4 in the morning. Piss off.**

_The bed's cold :( –M_

**So get another blanket. I'm not going halfway across London just so you can feed off my body heat.**

_We wouldn't have this problem if you would just move in with me. –M_

**We talked about this.**

_Yes and I still want to. –M_

**I'm fairly certain we'd kill each other after a week.**

_I'll behave if you do –M_

**Jim.**

_Fine but this isn't over. You will be mine –M_

**You're doing that thing where you're being creepy again.**

_That's kind of my thing. Go back to sleep. Love you. –M_

**Love you too.**

Sherlock shut the file was a sharp snap. He never would have imagined things had escalated so quickly. It had only been three months, how were they already in love? Then again John had a tendency to be overly romantic from what Sherlock had seen. But how could someone possibly fall in love with Moriarty, a known killer and psychopath? Then again, John had never been, strictly speaking, normal. He'd fallen in love with Sherlock, who was a sociopath, high functioning but still. John had never been the conventional sort, but Moriarty? The man had wrapped John in semtex for god's sake.

"So." Sherlock said pushing the file away, unable to look at another word, and tenting his fingers under his chin. "You've known where Moriarty was this whole time and you never did anything about it? John's been leading you to his location and yet he's still there."

"I've always known where Moriarty was." Mycroft said, offended by the notion that he didn't.

"What?"

"We've been keeping tabs on him for years now. He might disappear from our sight now and again but most of the time we know where he is."

"How can you let this man just run free? After what he did to me!" Sherlock rose to his feet.  _How could you let him get to John?_ He thought but didn't add.

"Moriarty holds a lot of cards in his hands, we can't just take him out without dire consequences. It's better to just keep a watchful eye on him and stop him whenever possible. However, Moriarty's operation has been quite lacks as of late. There was an upsurge in activity for the past two weeks but other than that, things have been quiet, comparatively speaking. It seems John has been a good influence on him as well.

"So is that how you've justified letting this go on for so long? As long as Moriarty stays docile, it doesn't matter what happens to John." Sherlock put his hands on Mycroft's desk and loomed over his brother.

"John seems to be enjoying Moriarty's company immensely. If there was even the slightest hint that John were seeing Moriarty against his will, I would of course have acted to rectify the situation—"

"You can't just –"

Mycroft held up his hand to cut Sherlock off. "However, that is not the case. John is a grown man, perfectly capable of making his own decisions. He chose the engage in a consensual sexual relationship with Jim Moriarty. I can't step in simply because you dislike that fact."

XXXX

"You're going to have to make a decision. I want you to pick me."

"Jim."

"I love you, he doesn't."

"It's not that simple."

"What can he possibly give you that I can't?"

"It's not about that."

"Then what is it?"

XXXX

"So what happens now? How do we get Moriarty?" Sherlock asked pacing in front of Mycroft's desk.

"We don't."

"What?" Sherlock stopped and turned towards his brother.

"Why don't you try talking to John, telling him how you feel?" Mycroft suggested, smiling smugly.

"Oh don't be stupid." Sherlock snapped and continued pacing. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because John already told me how he felt and I turned him down. Now if I tell him the truth, he'll think I'm only acting out of jealousy." Sherlock snarled in aggravation.

Mycroft rubbed his forehead and shook his head. "But you are jealous."

"Of course I am!" Sherlock shouted, slamming his fist down on Mycroft's desk.

XXXX

Jim's fingers worked on pulling John's dressing gown apart so it slid off his shoulders while he placed soft kisses on the nape of the army doctor's neck. "Jim." John said softly as the dressing gown fell to the floor.

"Just reminding you of what we have." Jim said kissing and nibbling his way down John's spine until he was on his knees.

"As if I've forgotten in the last twenty minutes?" John quipped as Jim pulled apart his cheeks.

"Trying to help with the decision making." Jim shrugged before lowering his face while John griped the edge of the counter tightly with his feet curling against the kitchen floor.

XXXX

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. He took his hand gingerly off Mycroft's desk and put it in his pocket. Then he slumped into the seat and stared out the window, unable to meet his brother's expectant gaze. "It was… difficult when I knew he was seeing someone new. I saw it, written all over him. I always could but this was…worse for some reason. I didn't think it could get more painful than it already was but now…"

"Did you expect him to pine away for the rest of his life?" Mycroft asked quietly.

"No. I thought he'd meet a nice, boring woman who'd leave him unfulfilled just like all the rest and nothing would change. But Moriarty…I never could have predicted this."

XXXX

"Christ Jim please!" John begged, his legs feeling like they were about to give out as Jim's tongue plunged deeper inside his entrance. He was wanking himself furiously, trying to relieve some of the unbearable tension and waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

Jim pulled off and stood up, gripping John by the shoulders and spinning him. He reached behind John and took one of the cups of tea John had made, now cold, and knocked it back in one gulp. Then he put one hand on the cupboard behind John's head and leaned in, crashing their lips together. John was thankful he was tasting tea and not his own arse. He took both of them in hand and kept up his frantic pace.

XXXX

"Do you feel betrayed?" Mycroft asked putting both the files away in his desk and locking them.

Sherlock brought his knees up to his chest, collapsing into himself. "No." he said firmly. "John wouldn't think of things like that. I doubt he went looking for Moriarty just to spite me."

"Are you certain? It's a bit coincidental that they both showed up at the pub that night."

Sherlock nodded. "Whatever John's reasons for this, I doubt he was trying to be cruel. If that had been his intention he would have told me who he was seeing a long time ago, rubbed it in my face."

"What are you going to do now? What will you say to him?"

"I don't know." Sherlock dropped his head onto his knees in despair. "I can't, I can't…think. I can't think. I can't process. I can't…"

"Sherlock." Mycroft said gently as he rose from his seat. He placed a consoling hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Well find a way to fix this."

XXXX

"Oh God Jim. Christ."

"Johnny. Fuck. Johnny."

They came simultaneously, cocks twitching and pulsing and spilling the hot liquid between them. John wrapped his arms around Jim and held him tight until they returned to themselves. For a few moments neither of them moved, the only sound was their heavy breathing and racing hearts. Jim dropped his head onto John's shoulder.

"Don't let me go." Jim said, barely above a whisper.

And John knew he words held a deeper meaning than just their embrace.


	14. Interlude - Lie To Me

"Johnny, wake up." Jim said, shaking the other man's shoulder until he stirred. "You have to get up now."

"What is it?" John asked. He reluctantly sat up and rubbed his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"We have to go now." Jim replied, chucking John's trousers at him. They hit him square in the face and John shook his head in confusion.

"What's happening?" he inquired, slipping out of the bed and starting to get dressed.

"Just hurry." Jim said slipping on his leather jacket and leaving the room.

John did his best to wake up, glancing at the clock to see what time it was. His eyes were still blurry with sleep so he blinked a few times until they cleared. It was just after two in the morning and they'd only gone to bed two hours ago. John yawned as he put his trousers on, skipping pants altogether, and searched the room for his shirt.

He had no idea what the urgency was but he grabbed his jumper off the floor and followed Jim. The Consulting Criminal had relocated to his office and John stood in the doorway, pulling on his jumper. "What's going on?" he asked, watching as Jim's eyes darted from screen to screen.

"We have to get out of here." Jim said vaguely and hopped out of his seat. He grabbed John's hand and tugged him towards the door.

"Did something happen?" John asked nervously, thrown off by Jim's manic behavior.

"I'll explain when we're outside." Jim said over his shoulder. He yanked open the door and they stepped through, closing it behind them.

When they got down to the street, Jim set off running, holding John's hand and pulling him along behind him. They ran together, sprinting down alleyways and up streets, catching strange glances from the few people that were still out this late. John felt the familiar rush and realized it had been so long since he'd done this, since he'd run, even though he has no idea why or what for. But Jim's hand was warm in his and they were holding on for dear life as if they were running from something only Jim could see.

It finally dawned on John that he trusted Jim, completely. There had been a certain level of trust for a while now, there had to be for some of the things they'd done, especially in the bedroom. But it was implicit now, instinctual, much the same as it had been with Sherlock before everything went to shit. All Jim had to do was ask and John would follow him anywhere. It's probably not the smartest thing he'd ever done, but it was too late to turn back now.

Jim stopped abruptly and John almost crashed into him if Jim hadn't spun them and pressed John against the wall. Jim's lips were on his in a second and John kissed him back emphatically even though he was out of breath. Jim's lips were insistent, sucking at John's lower lip before licking into his mouth. They were pressed so close together that there was no space between their bodies. It was like Jim was attempting to merge them into one.

"Jim." John tilted his head back to break the kiss, fearing he might pass out from lack of oxygen. "Tell me what's going on."

"Johnny." Jim murmured softly, burying his face in John's neck. He rubbed his nose against John's skin, lips ghosting over the bit of flesh uncovered by his jumper. "It's the last night of the world."

"What?"

"Tonight. It's the last night. As soon as the sun rises, the world is going to end." Jim explained, wrapping his arms around John.

"What are you talking about?"

"Tonight is all we have left. How long until the sun comes up?"

John looked at his watch and tried to guess what time the sun usually rose. "I guess probably about—"

"No!" Jim shouted, pulling away quickly and startling John. "No, no, no, no, no." He grabbed the front of John's jumper and pulled him closer. Jim's eyes were burning with intensity and if John hadn't known him so well, it might have made him shiver. "Lie to me." Jim growled and smashed their lips together. There was a clatter of teeth as Jim kissed John roughly, his tongue plunging deep.

Jim pushed him away after a moment of dominating his mouth. John shook himself to regain his composure. He tried to figure out what it was that Jim was asking of him, what Jim wanted. He wasn't exactly making sense but then John was well versed in crazy psychobabble.

He gently curled his fingers around the nape of Jim's neck and brought their heads together: forehead resting against forehead, blue eyes staring into brown and for a moment they just breathed and stared, noses touching. John blinked just once and then smiled as the right words came. "We've got all the time in the world."

Jim returned John's smile and laced their fingers together. They spent the rest of the night walking and chatting, snogging and holding hands. Occasionally they'd stop and just sit together, ignoring the ever approaching sun. They stopped at a twenty-four hour coffee place and got two steaming cups of coffee that they held in their unoccupied hands.

They walked along the Thames, moving out of the way of the tide so their shoes didn't get wet. John knew they were nearing sunrise and he was beyond exhausted. Besides that it was a brisk morning and too cold for just John's jumper or Jim's leather jacket. Even though they were pressed together, keeping each other warm and the coffee helped somewhat, they wouldn't be able to stay out there forever. He leaned over and gave Jim a quick kiss. "Come on, let's go home."

Jim grinned at John's choice of words and John rolled his eyes in response. "You know what I mean."

"I do, yes." Jim continued beaming and John just sighed and tugged on their joined hands, leading Jim back to the flat.

When they got back to Jim's they threw out their mostly empty coffee cups and started shedding their clothes. John sat down heavily on the bed, feeling the strain of the long walk in his legs and back. "You should wear the leather jacket more often." John remarked as Jim slipped it off his slender shoulders.

"Oh really?" Jim quirked an eyebrow at him. "I didn't take you for the leather type."

"Oh there's all sorts of things I'm into." John licked his lips and gave Jim an appraising look.

"If only I'd known." Jim made his way over, crawling onto John's lap. "All that wasted time."

John smiled up at him. "I wouldn't call it wasted."

"Neither would I." Jim pressed on John's shoulders until he lowered himself onto his back and Jim followed him down, lying on top of him.

"Good."

They kissed languidly, hands roving and clinging to each other in turn. Jim broke away to go and close the curtains, shutting out the tiny bit of sunlight that had just started steaming in. John propped himself up on his elbows and watched him. "What's going on Jim? The world's not really ending, is it?" he asked jokingly.

"Not in the strictest sense."

"And if it were, that's how you'd spend your last few hours on Earth? Walking around London and drinking coffee?" John asked with a bemused smile on his face.

"That isn't what I was doing."

"Really? That's what I was doing, what were you doing?"

Jim walked back over to the bed. He took a hold of one of John's ankles and raised it up, slipping off his sock. He lowered it and took the other one, doing the same. His hands moved up John's legs slow, his body following until he was on all fours, looming over him. "I was spending it with you."

"Oh." John said, the meaning of Jim's words dawning on him.

"If these were my last moments on Earth, I'd want them to be with you. I want you to be the last thing I see before I die." Jim placed a finger under John's chin and tilted his face up so their lips could meet.

"That's morbid." John said lifting his leg so his knee was pressed against Jim's groin. Jim rubbed against it, his cock stirring in his jeans. "But the world isn't ending."

"That's good, keep lying to me." Jim kissed down his throat.

"Jim."

"Hmm?" he replied, nibbling at John's neck.

"Are you ever going to tell me what's going on with you?"

"Probably not." Jim muttered. He moved lower, pushing up John's shirt and dipped his tongue into his navel.

"Jim. Talk to me, please." John asked, desperate to know why Jim was acting this way. In truth it was sort of scaring him, more so than anything else Jim had done in their time together.

Jim sighed and pulled away, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back towards John. "We're running out of time."

"What do you mean?"

"You and I. I can feel it. We're almost over."

"Jim."

"So I need you to lie to me, for just a bit longer."

"Jim," John said affectionately, moving closer and wrapping his arms around him, resting his head against Jim's back. "I'm not going anywhere."

"That's good." Jim said approvingly.

John frowned, slipping his hand under Jim's shirt and rubbing his back soothingly. "I'm not lying. I love you. That's not going to change. I'm not just going to leave you."

"Don't make promises in the dark, they don't mean a thing."

"Come here." John ordered. He lied down and slipped under the covers, holding them up for Jim to do the same. They settled in facing each other, slowly wiggling out of their clothes until they were naked and pressed flush against each other, legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other. "I'm not ending things, are you?"

Jim frowned. "Of course not."

"Then what are you talking about? The only two people who can end this relationship are here and neither of us are planning to call it quits. I don't know how this idea got into that giant brain of yours but I'm not saying goodbye, so unless this is your enigmatic way of cutting me loose, there's nothing for you to worry about."

"I wouldn't." Jim closed his eyes. "I couldn't let you go."

John reached up and cupped the side of Jim's face. Jim pressed into the touch. "Then don't."

"How much time do we have left, Johnny?"

John reached behind Jim and turned the clock away so neither of them could read it. He captured Jim's lips in a searing kiss that escalated quickly. They started rubbing against each other, rolling their hips for the friction of skin on skin. Their hands were everywhere as they grinded against each other.

The only sounds were their heavy breathing, skin on skin and soft whispers of each other's names. John came first then snaked his hand between them to finish Jim off. They lied together, panting, covered in each other's seed. Jim grabbed one of their t-shirts from the floor and haphazardly cleaned them both up.

John moved his hand down and interlaced their fingers. "We've got as much time as we want."


	15. Chapter 15

Not confronting John was difficult, knowing the truth but unable to say anything. Sherlock wanted to but that wasn't part of the plan. But every time he saw John, it was like someone punching a whole in his chest. Yet he had to wait until Mycroft had everything all set up. Now it was almost better when John didn't come home, so Sherlock didn't have to sit there and pretend that everything was fine.

But it still hurt, watching John leave and knowing exactly where he was going. Listening to John lie to him over and over again, knowing it was a lie but unable to say anything about it. He couldn't stop picturing the two of them together and it was driving him mad. He wished he had kept those files to look through, to help him understand how this was possible. However, having those files in the flat would be detriment to the plan. He couldn't risk John finding them and discovering that Sherlock knew the truth.

That's why it came as a mercy when Sherlock got the call that the plan was set. He had been about to break down and buy a pack of cigarettes and chain-smoke them through his anxiety. Mycroft seemed to have gotten everything set just in time, at least in terms of Sherlock losing his mind.

"You can handle this." Mycroft told him reassuringly.

"What if it all goes wrong?"

"It won't." Mycroft replied with conviction.

"John will hate me."

Mycroft was silent for a moment. "It's not too late to call it off."

"No, I have to do this."

"Alright, we'll get through this."

"Of course."

Sherlock took a deep breath and walked into the sitting room. John was in his chair, having fallen asleep there earlier. He had a book in his lap, head dropped onto the back of his chair, mouth open as he gently snored, a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth. It was oddly endearing and Sherlock had the strongest urge to touch him, to run his fingers through the dark blond hair, feel the texture of it. It seemed ridiculous that in that the time they'd lived together, Sherlock had no idea how John's hair felt.

Sherlock hated to disturb him, he looked so peaceful and it was obvious he hadn't been sleeping. Sherlock did his best not to think of why John hadn't been sleeping. It didn't make any difference though, he had a never ending loop of images playing in his mind, some of them real, others his imagination torturing him.

"John." Sherlock said, louder than his usual tone. John didn't move so Sherlock raised his voice even more. "John!"

"What? What is it?" John bolted upright, his book dropping to the floor.

"Come, hurry up. We found him."

"What? Who?" John wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up.

"Moriarty." Sherlock replied, searching John's face for his reaction. John however, kept his face very stoic except for his eyes widening just a fraction.

"Right, of course." John straightened his spine, looking more like a soldier with his shoulders back. "I'll just go get my gun."

Sherlock felt a familiar pang in his chest as he watched John head upstairs. He was mildly impressed that John was keeping his composure. He had been expecting John's panic to show but as far as Sherlock could tell, John's heart rate and breathing hadn't even increased. He'd expected some kind of tell, almost a bodily confession of what John had been getting up to. He'd expected John's body to betray him and let out the truth. Instead there was nothing.

"I've got it, let's go." John returns to the sitting room, tucking his gun into the back of his jeans.

Sherlock nodded and grabbed his coat, slipping it on as they left the flat together.

XXXX

As John climbed into the taxi after Sherlock, he was internally freaking out, although he did his best not to let it show on his face. Sherlock had found Jim and they were on their way to get him right now. John was at a complete loss for what to do. Should he tell Sherlock the truth, call off the manhunt? Should he text Jim and warn him? But he couldn't pull out his phone and text without rousing Sherlock's suspicion. Instead he decided he would just have to get in there and get to Jim first.

The cab ride seemed to take forever and John spent the entire thing on edge, wondering if he'd get to Jim in time. When the cab stopped, John looked out the window and recognized the building instantly. It was the same place they'd had their first official date, the rooftop where they'd had dinner and watched the fireworks. What the hell was Jim doing back here?

"What's this place supposed to be then?" John asked, trying to keep calm as he got out of the cab.

"Not sure. Mycroft got some intel saying a man matching Moriarty's description was seen going into this building. He's hasn't been seen leaving it. This might be our chance to catch him."

"Right." John nodded. "So what's the plan then?"

"I think we should probably split up. Mycroft's men should be here soon but for now we want to search without alerting Moriarty to our presence."

"Okay." John took his gun out and followed Sherlock inside. The last time he had been here, he hadn't had much of a chance to look around. He'd pretty much gone right up to the roof. He knew there were four stories to the building but other than that he was heading in completely blind and Jim could be anywhere. The warehouse was pretty much empty, a few unidentified crates were the only thing left.

"You take the next floor up." Sherlock said quietly and John nodded, heading for where he could see the lifts.

The door dinged with it's arrival and John was just about to walk through the doors when someone grabbed his arm and wrenched him through. He was pulled to the side, out of the line of sight, a hand covering his mouth. "Shh." Jim whispered and pressed the button for the door the close. When the lift slid shut, he released John and stepped back.

"Oh God Jim. I was really hoping you weren't here." John said with a heavy sigh.

The corner of Jim's mouth turned up into a smirk. "You were worried about me?"

"Of course I was. Sherlock's here, Mycroft will be here soon and quite possible the entire Met too. You have to leave now."

"You're cute when you care." Jim trailed a finger down John's chest.

"This isn't a joke Jim. Please, you have to go."

"Not yet." Jim said capturing John's lips and pressing him against one of the lift walls.

John reached up and gently pushed Jim away. "Jim, this really is not the time."

"It's the perfect time." Jim responded, taking John's gun out of his hands and placing it on the floor.

"Didn't you hear me? The British Government and the whole god damn police force on their way here now. You have to go."

Jim reached over and pulled a lever, making the lift halt abruptly. "There, now they can't get to us."

"Jim, please." John begged, cupping his face in his hands.

"Just like our first time Johnny, do you remember?" Jim asked, brushing his lips just barely against John's.

"Of course I do but Jim—"

"Shush." Jim nipped at John's bottom lip and then started to sink to his knees.

"Jim we have to get out of here. It's not safe. We have to— Jesus!"

Jim had torn open John's trousers and wasted no time taking him in his mouth. John reached out and gripped the railing as Jim's tongue was wet and firm and everywhere. John could feel himself hardening as Jim swallowed around his cock, taking it deep and then pulling off slowly.

"Oh, this is a really bad idea." John dropped his head back, smacking it on the wall.

"No, it's a brilliant idea." Jim contradicted, tongue flicking out against the tip a few times.

"Jim, they're – bloody hell – going to be here any minute."

"They can't get to us in here."

"Yes but eventually we're going to have to leave the elevator and then – Christ! – they'll find you."

"We'll be fine." Jim assured him and stood. John's cock was cold from the wetness hitting the air. He watched as Jim undid his trousers and shoved them down. He grabbed John by the front of his jacket and moved them so Jim was up against the wall. "Come on Johnny, fuck me." Jim wrapped his legs around John and hoisted himself up. Jim wiggled until he felt the blunt head of John's cock up against his opening and the grinded down, impaling himself. He took John half-way in one go, pushed up a bit and then took him completely, hissing slightly from the pain.

"For Fuck's sake Jim, you're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm fine." Jim said, a little breathlessly, his chest heaving. "Just give me a moment."

John rested his head against Jim's chest and for a moment both of them just breathed. Jim was unbelievably tight, sheathed around John so he could feel everything. "Are you ok?" John asked, worried.

"Yes, start moving."

"Sure?"

"Yes. Do it."

John thrust up as gently as he could but this position didn't leave much room for tenderness. Even as John tried to go slow, Jim would slip down, shoving his cock in deeper. "I'm fine." Jim said again, ducking his head down so his lips could just barely meet John's.

John thrust up a few times, just seeing if Jim could handle it. "Oh God." Jim groaned, throwing his head back, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he panted.

"Jim."

"Don't stop. Come on." Jim encouraged him.

John gave up trying to reason with him and instead started pounding into him. Jim was whimpering and gasping, thrashing his head around. John thought it must have been extremely unpleasant except Jim kept telling him not to stop. John was pressed up closely against Jim, making sure he didn't fall. Jim's cock was trapped between them, rubbing against John's jacket as they fucked.

"Oh fuck, Johnny." Jim moaned, already close to the edge.

John kissed across Jim's chest through his shirt, fingers digging into Jim's back as he held him up. He knew it wouldn't be long now as he continued pushing up into the overwhelming heat. He teetered on the brink of orgasm until Jim came, body constricting even more around John's cock. John toppled over, his vision going white. He held onto Jim for dear life, his orgasm ripping through him with such intensity.

John couldn't bare Jim's weight anymore and they collapsed on the ground with Jim lying on top of John. John was gulping in air, his lungs never feeling like they were getting enough oxygen. Jim was placing kisses anywhere and everywhere. John pushed his fingers into Jim's hair and stroked it, smiling down at the Consulting Criminal.

"That was completely ridiculous." He said fondly.

"Didn't you enjoy yourself?"

"Of course I did. Sex has never been our problem." John said with a chuckle.

"And what is our problem?" Jim asked, resting his chin on John's chest and staring up at him.

"Oh you know, the usual. You being my best friend's arch-nemesis. The fact that you're kind of insane or that you think having sex in a lift is a good idea when two separate authorities are coming here to get you."

"They won't get me, don't worry." Jim said sitting up.

"Well, I am worried." John said, doing the same. They both fixed their trousers and stood. Jim grabbed John and pulled him close, their lips finding each other. It started off chaste, until Jim licked his way into John's mouth. Both their hands were entwined as Jim leaned into the doctor. The kiss was deep and unhurried, tongue gliding against tongue. John lost track of time as the kiss became messy and needy, with Jim moaning into John's mouth.

"Meet me on the rooftop in twenty minutes." Jim said, resting his forehead against John's.

"Jim, you can't stay here. You have to go."

"I'll be fine, just meet me."

"Jim—"

"Please."

"Fine, I'll meet you. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I will." Jim agreed, moving his hands up to cup John's face. "I love you."

"I love you too."

With one more lingering kiss, Jim pressed the lever to make the lift move again. When it got to the second floor, Jim darted out and turned, looking at John until the door's closed again.

John rode up another floor and stepped out. He glanced at his watch to check the time and make sure he'd be on time to meet Jim. He went to one of the windows and looked out, trying to see if the police or Mycroft's men had arrived yet. His heart was hammering away in his chest and he prayed that Jim would be fine. Jim was clever, he could definitely find a way out of this.

It took John five minutes to realize his gun was missing.

XXXX

Jim stalked through the warehouse and took the stairs up to the roof. He pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock.

_I know you saw, I know you know. Come up to the roof for a little chat. –M_

Jim sat down on the ledge and waited. Two minutes later Sherlock came through the door, hands in his coat pockets, looking around to see if this was some sort of trick. Jim smirked crossed his legs primly, waiting for Sherlock to make his way over.

"My, how the tables have turned." Jim said when Sherlock was in hearing distance. "Last time we met like this everything was so different. This time, I'm the one with John and you're the one with the snipers. Your big brother sure is organized."

"What do you want Jim?" Sherlock asked tersely.

"What makes you think I want anything?" Jim removed an imaginary piece of lint from his trouser leg.

"You're the one who called me."

"I thought it was time we settled this." Jim replied, rising to his feet. "I know Mycroft showed you the pictures, I also know you were just watching the security footage coming from the lift. Did you enjoy that?"

"Not as much as you seemed to." Sherlock bit back harshly.

"I imagine so. You really are an idiot. All that time you had John living in the same flat as you and you never slept with him. I don't think I need to tell you that you were missing out." Jim grinned smugly.

"So this was just about sex?" Sherlock inferred.

"Well that's the question, isn't it?" Jim said, walking over and beginning to circle around Sherlock like a vulture. "Was I just messing with John? Using him to get to you? Playing with his head or yours or both?"

"And?"

"E." Jim stopped when he was standing directly in front of Sherlock. "None of the above."

"But those pictures."

"Oh come now, I knew you'd see them eventually. I knew as soon as I noticed the cameras that Mycroft would see them and eventually show them to you. I couldn't help taunting you just a little bit. Because you really just have no idea what you were missing."

"So you're telling me you have feelings for him?" Sherlock asked incredulously. "This wasn't just part of your plan to burn me?"

"You didn't factor into it, actually." Jim confessed willingly.

"I need to know why, why John?"

"You know why." Jim narrowed his eyes menacingly. "We're intellectuals Sherlock. We live in our heads, we can't help it. Our brains never shut up, they just keep going and going. We play little games to keep from being bored because if we don't have constant stimulation, we'd be left with nothing but our thoughts. And oh, is that a scary prospect."

"Get to the point." Sherlock snarled impatiently.

"John." Jim said as if it were obvious. "John's the point. You and all your addictions, the cocaine, the nicotine, the morphine. All of it just to get your mind to stop running. John's better than any of that. He makes everything stop and for once everything in your mind just shuts the fuck up. He shuts off your brain so all you can do is feel and it's terrifying and exhilarating and you notice the heart you didn't even realize you had beats so fucking loudly." Jim emphasized this by slapping his hand on his chest, just above where his heart was. "He's better than any drug. He's exactly what people like us need and he needs us too. Needs to be challenged, needs danger and excitement, something we can provide. You could have had everything but you were too stupid to see what was being offered. He was giving you everything and you were too scared to take it, you fucking moron."

"Hold on, you're angry with me? How does that work?" Sherlock blinked a few times, staring down at Jim in disbelief.

"You rejected him. Do you have any idea what you had? What you could have had?" Jim spat out.

"Of course I did."

Jim baulked, taken aback by this. "What?"

"I turned him down, yes, because I believed he deserved something better, not because I didn't want what he was offering. You have no idea how hellish the past few months have been but I suffered through because I believed he was with someone who actually deserved him. Instead he ended up with you." Sherlock said, looking at Jim in utter disgust.

"And that must just eat you up inside, knowing that your rejection sent him right into my arms." Jim smiled and raised her arms to emphasize the point.

"Do you want to know the worst part?"

"Always."

"It's that he's actually been happy these past few months. You actually made him happy." Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion as if he didn't understand how such a thing were possible.

''Well…" Jim clicked his tongue and tilted his head from side to side. "All the sex helps."

Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed for a moment. "I really don't need details."

"That's right, you've had a front row seat, haven't you?" Jim crossed his arms over his chest, relishing in Sherlock's pain. "How much did you watch?"

"All of it."

"You know, I'm a bit disappointed in you Sherlock. I thought you were supposed to be clever and yet you couldn't even figure out I was the one fucking John? You must have seen it, written all over him, all the things I did to him. Were you too busy caught up on the idea that it was your big brother? I never even crossed your mind did I?"

"Oh you did briefly, although I dismissed it. I suppose I overestimated John or I underestimated your…charms."

"I can be downright sweet when I want to be."

"Is that what you are when you're with him? Sweet?"

"Nah, I'm mostly naked when I'm with him. But you know, John, you should really be thanking him."

"For?"

"If it weren't for him, you'd probably be dead by now. I had all sorts of ideas on how I was going to end you until he came along and I got distracted."

"I'll be sure to inform him of my gratitude." Sherlock sniffed and stood up straighter. 

"So what happens now Sherlock? You get one of Mycroft's snipers to finish me off and then you and John got riding off into the sunset?" Jim reached into his jacket and pulled out John's gun. He pointed it directly at Sherlock's head, his hand not shaking in the slightest.

"Really Jim?"

"Oh come on now, you really didn't think I was going to give him up without a fight, did you?"

"On the contrary, I would have been disappointed if you had." Sherlock said, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a small smile.

"So now what? I shoot you, Mycroft's men shoot me?"

"You could just walk away." Sherlock offered.

"We both know I'm not going to do that."

"Is he really that important to you?"

"You tell me. You could just walk away too." Jim said turning the safety of John's gun off. "Is he worth it? Worth potentially dying over?"

Sherlock stood up a bit straighter and nodded. "Yes."

"Then I suppose neither of us are going anywhere."

John took that opportune moment to arrive, opening the door and freezing the second he took in the scene before him. "Oh God." John said, looking terrified. His gaze shifted from Sherlock to Jim and back again. "Sherlock, please, just let me explain."

"I think Jim's done quite enough explaining." Sherlock sneered, wrapping his coat closer around him.

Jim closed his eyes, unable to bare it anymore. John hardly even registered that Jim was there, his focus completely on Sherlock. And just like that Jim understood that he had lost the game without even getting a fair chance to play. But like hell was Jim going to go quietly.

He opened his eyes and looked at John, who was finally looking back at him. Their eyes locked for a moment and then Jim squeezed the trigger, his eyes never leaving John.

That's when Jim felt the bullets ripping through his skin and he screamed.

XXXX

John rushed forward, catching Jim before he fell to his knees. The first bullet from Mycroft's men had hit his hand, knocking the gun sideways so the shot Jim fired hit Sherlock in the shoulder instead of the heart, which was where Jim had been aiming. John grasped Jim and lowered him gently to the ground.

"No, Jim, come on." John said looking over Jim's body for a place to even begin fixing him.

"John." Jim coughed, blood spilling out of his mouth.

"Oh God Jim, why? Why did you do that?" John asked frantically, pressing his hands down on the wound on Jim's stomach that seemed to be bleeding the most.

"I'm a sore loser Johnny." Jim replied with a laugh.

"What are you talking about?"

"Turns out Sherlock's in love with you after all. I'd say congratulations but I wouldn't really mean it."

"What does that have to – "

"You were never going to pick me, not when you could have him." Jim nodded his head in the direction of where Sherlock was lying.

"You don't know that." John said applying more pressure to the wound.

Jim's lips curled into a smile. "Yes I do."

"For fuck's sake Jim, you knew there were gunmen on you. Why did you pull the trigger?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Jim tried to shrug but couldn't really manage it.

"Why am I constantly surrounded by geniuses that act like idiots?" John asked, pulling his jumper up over his head and using it to staunch the blood. There were too many wounds, John didn't think he could stop them all. Jim was bleeding out quickly, lying in a pool of his own blood.

Jim watched his strip. "Are you putting on a show for me, Johnny?"

"No, I'm trying to keep you alive until the ambulance gets here you bloody moron."

Jim grabbed John's wrist and stilled it. "Don't."

"What? I'm not going to let you die on me Jim, don't you fucking dare." John said through gritted teeth.

"I'll go to prison."

"That's not so bad. I'll come visit you, we'll get one of the conjugal trailers." John gave him a grin, pulling his hand away from Jim's grasp so he could gently caress the dying man's face. "Just stay with me."

"I'd rather have this pain than this one." Jim took John's hand away from his face and placed it on his heart.

"Please Jim." John pleaded desperately as he felt the knees of his jeans getting soaked in Jim's blood. "Let me fix you."

"I'm afraid you're a bit late for that Johnny. I want this."

"And what about what I want?"

"We both know what you want." Jim's eyes flickered to Sherlock again.

"I love  _you_." John said, giving up on trying to stop the bleeding and placing his hands on either side of Jim's face. "I would have chosen you."

  
"You can stop lying to me now Johnny."

"Oh God." John said as realization washed over him. "You knew, you knew this would happen. Is that what that was, the last night of the world, it was you saying goodbye."

"It was the last night of the world, for me anyway.'

"Fuck, Jim if you knew, why didn't you stop it?"

"Why did Pamina try to kill herself?"

"Because she…" John thought back to the opera they had seen together. It felt like a lifetime ago. "She believed Tamino didn't love her anymore. Shit Jim, is that what you think?"

"Don't think, I know. I was just the consolation prize remember?"

"You weren't." John insisted, shaking his head. "Jim, you haven't been that for a long time now. Christ, I thought you knew that."

"But it's always going to be him, isn't it? It's always Sherlock and John. I got there too late, maybe if I had met you first we could have…" Jim stopped to turn his head and cough up more blood, adding it to the pool of it already surrounding him. He was bleeding out fast and John couldn't stop it. "Even at the pool, it was right there and I didn't see it."

"See what? What didn't you see?"

Jim raised a blood soaked hand to John's cheek and John pressed into the touch. "You."

"Oh God Jim. Please don't leave me. I love you."

And then John was crying, crying for Jim. He had never expected anyone to mourn his death, to be upset that he wasn't alive anymore. John would. John would miss him and that was the greatest gift he had ever gotten. To know that someone would feel his absence.

John raised his hand to cover Jim's and hold it against his cheek.

"I told you I'd hurt you Johnny." Jim reminded him.

"I know."

"I find no pleasure in it, hurting you."

"I think that means you've grown as a person." John huffed out a laugh.

Jim's eyes glazed over slightly. "Everything is quiet John. Is this what death is like? Silence?"

"I imagine so, yes."

"Then I think I might enjoy it."

"Please Jim, just hold on a bit longer. I can hear the ambulance, it's almost here. Just hold on."

"I don't hear it at all. I can only hear you. It's wonderful." Jim smiled, a genuine one reserved only for John. Jim closed his eyes, ready to be enveloped by the silence. He could feel himself slipping until he felt the gentle press of lips against his. The kiss stopped being gentle and grew insistent, John coaxing Jim's mouth open and deepening it. Jim's eyes snapped open and watched as John kissed him emphatically as if he could heal him with his lips.

"You can't save me Johnny."

"I can try."

"Get ready for disappointment."

"I'm not giving up that easy."

"He loves you John, you don't need me anymore. You're getting what you wanted."

"I want you both."

"You really think I would share you, especially with him?"

"We could try." John laughed and it was the most beautiful thing Jim had ever heard.

"Will you do me a favor Johnny?"

"Anything."

"Wear the suit when you visit my grave. I always loved the way you looked in that suit."

"Yes, I promise."

"Good." Jim nodded. "Well I better be off."

"No Jim, come on. You can't die."

Jim gave John a lopsided grin. "That's what people do." He sat up suddenly, clutching at John with his arms around him. "Bet you never saw this coming, I can stop John Watson too, stop his heart." Jim whispered into his ear. "Remember Johnny?"

"Of course." John nodded.

"Our first date."

John laughed. To Jim it sounded like a symphony. He closed his eyes and took it all in. The sound of John's laughed, the way his body shook just slightly, the feeling of his warm hands on Jim's back, holding him just as tightly, willing him to hang on.

"Please Jim, I love you. Just stay with me. I love you." They kissed, slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world.

Jim pulled away from the kiss and rested his head on John's shoulder. His other hand came up and touched the pulse point on John's neck, listening to his calming heartbeat, knowing he wouldn't get to hear it for very long.

"You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson."

"Jim, please." John was crying again. From where he was, Jim could see the tears falling off John's chin, glistening in the sun. He stared at them, watching as tear after tear fell.

"I love you Johnny."

"Jim-" John choked out.

With some difficulty, Jim raised his arms and hugged John, who squeezed him back. It wasn't long now, Jim could feel it. He gave John a quick kiss on the cheek, tasting the saltiness of his tears, and with the last bit of life left in him, he moved his lips to John's ear and said "Gotcha."


	16. Chapter 16

Kaseythejudge made this absolutely beautiful fanvideo for this fic. It is quite simply amazing and I suggest everyone watch it [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQqg2pMYycg)

[](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQqg2pMYycg)

_______________________________________________________________________________________

 

It took John three days to get to the hospital to see Sherlock. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing in those three days, it was all a sort of blur, but he knew where he hadn't been. He vaguely recalled going to Baker Street because he knew Sherlock wouldn't be there. A large chunk of those three days was spent in sleep or something resembling sleep, maybe catatonia. After the three days he didn't feel rested but he didn't feel tired either. He felt numb like he was still waiting for everything to hit him.

He hadn't even really thought about visiting Sherlock at the hospital, not really. The idea had flickered into his thoughts for a moment and then it was gone. He only went when Mrs. Hudson came upstairs, said she was going to visit and told him to get dressed. He did so somewhat reluctantly, not even bothering to think about what he was putting on, just grabbing clothes randomly

"Young man, you go upstairs and change this instant!" Mrs. Hudson said the moment he stepped out of his flat and went to join her in the front hallway.

"What, why?" he asked, not wanting to exude the energy it would take to go back upstairs.

Mrs. Hudson simply gestured to his trousers and he looked down. Two large, brownish patches adorned his knees and the moment he realized what they were, he felt his legs give out. He gripped the railing of the staircase so hard he thought he might break it off. He started hyperventilating, breathing in sharp gasps. He felt dizzy, like he might fall over, his grip on the railing was the only thing keeping him upright.

"John?" Mrs. Hudson said with concern, putting her arm around him. "Dear, are you alright?"

John swallowed hard and steeled himself, his feet feeling firmer underneath him. "I'm fine." He managed to choke out. "I'll just go change."

"Take your time dear." Mrs. Hudson said, still looking worried about him. He nodded at her and started to ascend the stairs again, heading back to his room. He slowly took off his jeans, trying his best not to touch the stains on the knees as he slipped them off. He laid them on his bed and just stared at them for a long while, everything finally hitting him. Jim was gone, dead, and it was all his fault. If he had warned Jim not to be at the warehouse or had insisted Jim leave after they'd met in the lift. If he had managed to convince Jim that he loved him enough not to leave, this wouldn't have happened.

He snapped out of it when he remembered Mrs. Hudson was downstairs waiting for him. He grabbed a different pair of jeans and headed downstairs. She gave him a sympathetic look and linked her arm through his, not letting go all through the taxi ride. "I'm worried about him too." She said quietly, giving his arm a squeeze. "But it's Sherlock, he'll be fine."

"Of course." John nodded, not having the heart to tell her that Sherlock wasn't really on his mind at the moment.

When they got to Sherlock's room, John let Mrs. Hudson go in first, waiting outside the door. Sherlock was stabilized but not awake, which made the idea of seeing him somewhat less painful. But when John got to his door, he found his feet unable to step inside. So instead he watched his friend through the glass, enjoying that there was a bit of a barrier between them.

Sherlock was hooked up to a heart monitor and the steady beeping noise was something of a comfort, a reaffirmation of life. He wondered if this was how Jim felt every time he had listened to John's heart. He could see how it would be appealing, comforting even. John felt himself daze off to the sound of it, getting lost in his head.

It took him a few moments to realize Mycroft had joined him and had in fact started talking. John joined the conversation a bit late, with no idea what Mycroft was chatting to him about. He listened intently to figure out the topic of discussion. He didn't want it to be too obvious that he hadn't been paying attention.

"He hasn't woken up yet but when he does, I'm sure he'll want to see you."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." John confessed, keeping his eyes trained on the room.

"John –"

"I'm no good to anyone right now." John interjected quickly. "I'm sure you'll make sure he has everything he needs."

"I can't do that if you leave John." Mycroft said to John's retreating form. John chewed on his lower lip pensively for a moment and then turned back around.

"No one needs me." He shrugged. "Not anymore."

"John, you really should –"

"Just keep an eye on him and let me know if his condition worsens."

"I've been guaranteed that it won't." Mycroft said with conviction.

"Good." John nodded. "Then please don't call me. I won't be coming back here."

John shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to leave again. "He needs you John."

John turned his head slightly and spoke over his shoulder. "Well I need to be alone. I'm sure Sherlock can understand that." His tone was icy before he walked away, not looking back until he was out of the hospital.

He continued walking for a long time, his mind in a fog, not even paying attention to where he was going. It took him awhile to realize he had started walking the same route he and Jim had done the one morning when the world had been ending. It only struck him when he stopped in front of the twenty-four hour coffee shop, recognizing it from that early morning.

It didn't take long before he found himself at Jim's flat and went in without thinking. Jim had given him a set of keys a while ago and the four digit key code for the security box. He pulled the keys from his pocket and slipped each of the necessary keys into their locks. Then he punched in 1973, the year John was born.

When he opened the door, he almost expected Jim to pop out and say hi or push John against the door the moment it was closed. Instead the flat was just empty, silent, as he walked through it. Memories flooded him of the day they had spent shagging on any available surface they could find. He wondered what would happen to the flat now that Jim was dead. He couldn't imagine never coming back here. Depending on how things went with Sherlock, he considered moving in. It was rather ironic that he had been dead set against the idea when Jim was alive but now he was seriously contemplating it.

He finally stumbled into the bedroom, tugging off his jumper and toeing off his shoes before flopping down on the bed. He inhaled deeply, the mix of his and Jim's scents swirling through his nose. His deep breath turned into a sob and he buried himself under the covers. It didn't take long for John to drift off to sleep, pretending Jim was simply in his office, planning world destruction.

XXXX

John awoke to a barrel of a gun being pointed in his face. It took him a moment to move his attention from the gun to the man holding it. His face was hardened, his blond hair was cut short and John recognized it as distinctively military. "Sebastian Moran?" John guessed, sitting up slowly, the gun following him as he did so.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here, Doctor Watson." Moran said harshly. "Get up."

"I don't think so."

"I won't shoot you if you get up, I will shoot you if you don't." Moran threatened, motioning for John up with the gun.

John sighed and pulled the covers back, thinking that there was no guarantee that this man wouldn't shoot him either way. But if getting up meant he wouldn't die right away, then he could manage it. He picked his jumper up off the floor, making sure to move slowly so the man didn't think he was trying anything. He didn't know if the man was trigger-happy.

"Any point in asking where I'm going?" John asked as he pulled the jumper on over his head.

"We're going for a little walk." Moran replied enigmatically.

John rolled his eyes and sat back down on the bed to put on his shoes. Moran tapped his heavy booted foot impatiently. "So you worked for Jim?" John asked conversationally.

"Used to." Moran said, sounding somewhat bitter.

"What happens to everything now that…" he trailed off, unable to say out loud yet that Jim was dead.

"That's not really your concern, Doctor." Moran responded curtly and John just continued tying his shoes.

When John finished, he stood up and Moran cocked his head towards the door, signaling John to go through it. John stared him down for a moment, wondering if Moran was planning on shooting him in the back. Moran huffed out a breath and clicked the safety off of his gun and lowered it, but kept it securely in his hand. John nodded in thanks and walked towards the door.

Fortunately, it was a rather short drive so being confined in a car with a man with gun wasn't too bad. There was no need for awkward chatting and Moran kept his eyes fixed on the road while John stared out his window. John didn't look at Moran until the arrived at their destination, a graveyard. John eyed Moran questioningly. "Get out of the car, Doctor Watson." Moran said simply, doing the same himself.

John slid from his seat and closed the door behind him. Moran was already trudging his way across the cemetery and John hurried to catch up. Moran stopped abruptly in front of a fresh pile of dirt, the grave unmarked. John stood next to him, wondering what they were doing.

"There he is." Moran cut through the silence after a few moments.

"Jim?" John inferred.

"Yep." Moran nodded.

"Why is there no gravestone?"

"There usually aren't, for people like him. People that don't really exist. But that's where he is, all the same."

John had no idea what to say in response to that, so he stared down at the pile of dirt, which underneath was buried the criminal mastermind. It seemed like such a pathetic end to such a remarkable man, to be nothing but a pile of dirt with no way for anyone to even tell who was resting there. John crouched down and touched the edge of the dirt, silently saying goodbye. He wasn't about to do it out loud for Moran to hear.

He was in the middle of mentally saying he was sorry when he heard the safety of Moran's gun click off. John didn't even bother turning his head. "He'd still be alive if it weren't for you."

John didn't say anything, he didn't have it in him to argue. In fact he wasn't even sure if Moran was wrong in thinking that.

"Oh you might not have pulled the trigger, but you're the reason he's dead. You and both those Holmes brothers. Jim knew or at least he had a good idea that he was going to die. Got all his affairs in order before he went to the warehouse that day. Knew what Holmes had planned, figured it out the moment Sherlock went to his big brother. Sherlock played you for a sap, Doctor Watson. He was well aware of you and Jim before he took you to that warehouse. He had one specific goal in mind and that was to kill Jim, get him out of the way so he could win back your affections."

"Do you really expect me to believe a word of this?" John asked with a snort of derision.

"If you won't believe me, maybe you'll believe it from Jim." Moran said and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a letter and tapped it against John's shoulder. John reluctantly took it from him. "I didn't read it." Moran promised. "I wouldn't invade Jim's privacy like that."

"So I read it and then you shoot me?" John asked snidely over his shoulder.

"I'm not going to shoot you Doctor." Moran put the safety back on and slipped the gun into his jacket. "Out of respect for Jim. He loved you and it wouldn't be right. But I promise you this, if I ever see you again, if our paths should cross, there will be nothing keeping me from pulling this trigger on you or Holmes."

"I understand." John nodded and pocketed the letter.

"Goodbye, Doctor. You better hope you don't see me again."

John closed his eyes and waited till he heard the heavy footsteps leave. He sat down next to Jim's grave. He tried to finish what he'd been in the middle of saying before but now the words weren't coming. Instead he patted the earth covering Jim and tried to keep his eyes from welling up. "Damn it Jim." John said wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve. "Why did you have to leave me?"

There was no response but then John hadn't really been expecting one. He sat there for a long time, staring at nothing, until it started to rain. Pulling his jacket closer around himself, he headed for the main road to hail a cab and go home.

XXXX

Sherlock awoke with a groan as everything hurt and his feeling of the drugs started to wane. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes and then turned his head to find Mycroft sitting next to his bed. Sherlock looked around the room but there was no one else. "Where's John?" Sherlock croaked out.

Mycroft reached for the cup of water on the bedside table and held to it Sherlock's lips, tilting it gently so some of the liquid flowed into Sherlock's mouth. "I'm sorry Sherlock, he's not here."

"Oh." Sherlock said slowly, trying to take that in. If John wasn't here, where was he? As if reading his mind, Mycroft answered.

"He stopped by earlier but I'm afraid he's taken Moriarty's death quite hard. He said he needed to be alone."

"Yes, of course. No reason he should be here." Sherlock shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mycroft gave him a knowing smile and placed a comforting hand on Sherlock's uninjured shoulder.

"Does he know?" Sherlock asked, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat.

"I'm not sure. There was no audio in the lift so we can't be sure how much Moriarty told him. Jim managed to keep his mouth covered for most of it so we can't even try reading his lips."

"Do you…do you think if John did know the truth, he would ever forgive me?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Are you planning on telling him?"

"I'm not sure." Sherlock answered honestly.

"If you do, make sure you mention that it was not your intention for Moriarty to die. It might help." Mycroft advised, taking his hand off Sherlock's shoulder and sitting back down in the chair by the bed.

"Nothing went the way it was supposed to." Sherlock grumbled, slumping down in the bed.

"The plan did get a bit muddled but then Jim Moriarty is…was a difficult man to predict."

"I knew he'd force a confrontation but I thought he'd back down. I thought he'd give John up." Sherlock confessed grimly.

"Apparently his attachment to John was greater than either of us realized." Mycroft said, regret evident in his voice.

"I don't know what to do now." Sherlock said miserably.

"First you concentrate on making a full recovery and then you worry about fixing things with John." Mycroft said with a tone of finality.

"What if John leaves?" Sherlock stared at Mycroft with such terror in his eyes, a sight Mycroft hadn't seen since Sherlock was a boy. "I always knew he would, it was sort of inevitable really but I thought we'd still be friends."

"Don't worry about that now. There's nothing you can do until you're better."

"I won't survive it Mycroft." Sherlock dropped down against his pillows and turned his face away from his brother. "I won't survive it."

XXXX

Instead of a letter, it ended up being instructions, instructions that led John to a safety deposit box. They key had been in the envelope and when he turned it into the lock, he had no idea what to expect. Jim was always one for keeping him on his toes but this felt like a rare gift. It was as if Jim were still around, still playing games and communicating with John. If John hadn't felt Jim die in his arms, he might have allowed himself to hope that Jim was still alive and this was his way of telling John.

The only thing in the box was a phone, a white phone. Jim had briefly explained why he had two phones and John remembered this was his personal phone. He made sure there was nothing else in the box before shutting it and locking it back up. He slipped the phone into his pocket and decided to look through it once he got back home.

The moment he turned the phone on, a little box appeared and he clicked yes without even reading what it was asking. His breath caught in his throat as Jim's voice started speaking.

"Hi Johnny. I hate to be cliché and use the old 'if you're hearing this I'm probably dead' thing but sometimes there's just no other way to say something. I am, in fact, dead if you're hearing this because Seb wouldn't have given you my instructions otherwise. And if I'm dead well… then there's a few things I want to say to you. First being that I knew if Sherlock and I were going to have a confrontation he would bring back up. After last time he wasn't about to meet me without knowing he would be safe, especially if Mycroft was involved. I know meeting with him will likely result in my death. I don't really mind, Johnny. Doing the work I do, living the kind of life I do, I was never going to make it to old age."

John let out a shaky breath and waited for Jim to continue. He lied down on the bed and put the phone next to his ear on the pillow, closing his eyes so it felt like Jim was right there talking to him.

"I never really minded the idea of an early grave. It sounded better than getting all old and wrinkly except…well then you happened and I…fuck, Johnny. Why is this so difficult? No, I can get through this." He took a deep breath and continued. Meanwhile the corner of John's eyes were prickling with tears. "I told you once that loving you was going to destroy me and this is it. This is the moment. It's not even dying that's going to do it, it's right now as I leave you this message because I know I can stop it, avoid it. I could just not go. I considered it. I considered a lot of things. I thought about asking you to run away with me but then remembered you wouldn't even agree to move in with me. Why would you drop everything, leave it all behind and flee the country with me?"

John choked out a sob and covered his hand with his mouth to stifle it so he could hear what Jim was saying.

"I can't just leave Johnny. I can't leave you, leave you behind. I can't, I can't, fuck. It would be unbearable. Truly. I would do anything for you Johnny and I suppose this is when I prove that. So I guess that's a decision made then and that means I'm going to die. I don't mind, not really. I realized a long time ago you and I weren't going to have forever. You gave me three months and that's more than I ever expected to get. You've been trying to remove all my masks, get to the man underneath, well here he is. Nothing was ever real, no genuine emotions before you. You treated me like a man, like an actual person. I don't think I even identified myself as human until you pointed it out. So this is him, the real Jim. It was always real with you John. I'd never met anyone before that I could be myself around that would still want to be with me. I'd never expected to find anyone like that but then I never could have predicted you. You were so beyond anything I ever could have imagined for myself and every day I'm thankful that I decided to go to the pub that night."

John wiped his face on his sleeve and buried his head in the pillow, everything but his ears so he could still hear.

"There's just one more thing before I go Johnny. It might be a lot to ask but I want you to remember me. I don't think anyone else will, at least not for the reasons I want them to. If you look through this phone you'll see that I've left you some things that might help with that. But yes, if you could, I hope you can remember me. I hope I get to see you before I go. If nothing else, I want your face to be the final thing I see. If not, it's fine I'm sure I'll be thinking of you anyway. But if I could be granted one kindness in a life full of shite, this would be the one I'd want. To have you there, with me, at the end. I love you Johnny. I could have had forever and it still wouldn't be enough time to tell you everything I want. But I guess that's the only thing, the only important thing, for you to know. I love you, John Watson. Never doubt that."

The recording ending and John didn't move. He tried to swallow around the lump in his throat with little success. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling for a long time, doing nothing but breathe. Finally he grabbed the phone off his pillow and replayed the message, putting the phone on his stomach. He lost track of how many times he listened to it.

When he finally stopped, he opened the phone and started to look for what Jim had mentioned, the things designed to help him remember, as if he could possibly forget. Saved under a folder entitled Johnny, there were pictures. They looked like they were taken off the CCTV. Pictures of dates John could recall and moments he couldn't. There were quite a few pictures of them simply walking together and John only recognized it as the day the world was ending because of Jim's leather jacket, something he'd only worn the once. They looked like a normal couple, fingers entwined, eyes locked on each other and small smiles playing on their lips. They looked happy and it made John ache.

He went through the rest of the phone. There were a few recordings of their conversations, a few voicemails he'd left and all the text messages they had exchanged. John was thankful for them considering he had had to delete his own. Jim had saved every single one of them. He went through them, laughing at some of Jim's inane comment despite himself. When he finished, instead of feeling better, he felt hollow and alone. At least he had something left of Jim, something to hold on to.

XXXX

John moved out of Baker Street three days later, a day before Sherlock was scheduled to come home from the hospital. John didn't want to see him, didn't want to be there when he got back. Instead he found a shithole little flat that he could just barely afford on his own and went right ahead and moved in. He'd learned to keep his belonging to a minimum since his army days so moving out wasn't as much of a hassle as it could have been.

Any time not spent at work was spent either sleeping or walking around London. The days passed in a blur. John wasn't even sure if he was eating but he was never hungry so he must have managed something. He had started spending most nights down at the pub, drinking himself into a stupor, just like he'd seen his sister do countless times. For someone who had taken such great care of only having one or two drinks when the mood struck him, John let go of his inhibitions quickly. Personal tragedy could do that to a person.

XXXX

John started having nightmares again, nightmares of the rooftop, of watching bullet after bullet pierce Jim's skin, ripping through it as if it were nothing. He heard Jim's screams echoing in his ears and it was usually that sound that tears him from his sleep. John usually awoke wishing he could crawl out of his skin. The guilt he felt was overwhelming and the nightmares usually proceeded hours on end of just walking through London. They always ended at Jim's unmarked grave.

XXXX

In the end Sherlock waited two weeks before he contacted John. It was just a single text with an address and the words  _please come –SH._ John wasn't sure why he ended up going to what ended up being a coffee shop but he supposed that after all they'd been through, it deserved to end with a conversation. Maybe he was planning on having a row but mostly he just thought the whole thing deserved some closure. Their friendship had once been very important to John and he thought it needed a better ending than John just running away, leaving Sherlock recovering in the hospital.

When he arrived at the coffee shop, Sherlock was already there, waiting for him. There were two cups of coffee on the table, one in front of the empty chair meant for John. Sherlock had both his hands around his cup, staring down at it unblinkingly. John had never seen the man looking so small. He didn't even glance up when John sat down.

"Well?" John asked, his tone harsher than he had intended.

Sherlock finally glanced up at him and immediately looked back down at the safety of his coffee cup. John grabbed his own and took a sip. His patience was wearing thin quickly. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak several times but always ended up closing it again without saying a word. John rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "This is a waste of time." He said pushing his chair back and standing.

"How are you?" Sherlock said quickly, the words running together.

John curled his hands into fists but tentatively sat back down. "You really don't want to know the answer to that." He replied stiffly.

"I wouldn't have asked if –"

"Sherlock." John tried to keep his voice as level as possible. "You. Don't. Want. To. Know."

Sherlock swallowed and looked away, staring out the window. "And how is your new flat?"

"Bearable." John answered, lifting his cup to his lips again.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched. "No it isn't."

"It'll make do." John shrugged. "Is that all you wanted?"

"No." Sherlock turned his head so his eyes met John. "That's not all I want."

"Sherlock –"

"Come home John."

"I can't."

"I understand that you're upset about Jim –"

" – Upset?"

"— And that you're grieving."

"Sherlock."

"But there was no need for you to move out."

"Sherlock." John said a bit louder, trying to get his attention. "I'm going to stop you right there.  _I_ felt it was necessary to move out.  _I'm_ the one who decides what's best for me.  _You_ don't factor into it."

"And drinking yourself into a coma is what's best for you?" Sherlock asked, quirking one eyebrow up.

"Maybe it is." John replied, irritated beyond belief.

"What can I say John. How do I get you to stop this and come home?" Sherlock asked desperately.

"I don't want you to say anything and Baker Street isn't my home. Not anymore."

"Why did you come then if you weren't going to listen to what I had to say? If you were going to insist on being complete irrational."

"Irrational?" John asked indignantly, slamming his hand on the table and making it jump.

"Calm down."

"A man is dead Sherlock. I know it was two weeks ago and maybe you've deleted it already, considered it irrelevant but I can't forget it. Jim is dead and I was in love with him, so I think I've earned the right to be a little irrational." John spat, wanting to flip the table over and hit something.

"John." Sherlock said softly, reaching out and placing his hand over the other man's. John flinched and pulled his hand away while Sherlock looked back down at his untouched coffee. "He chose to die."

"I'm sorry?" John asked in confusion.

"Up on the rooftop, I gave him the chance to walk away. He didn't take it."

John's mouth gaped open, taking in his new information. He blinked a few times, trying to process.

"He gave me the same option. I didn't take it either."

"Why not?" John pursed his lips together while he waited for the answer.

"Walking away would be admitting defeat. It would have meant giving you up. Neither of us was willing to do that."

"Sherlock." John started but pressed his finger to his lips and tried to compose himself. "You had no claim over me, Jim did. I was with Jim."

"Does that mean I'm not allowed to fight for you?" Sherlock shot back.

"I – " John scraped his teeth over his bottom lip, finding it very difficult to stay calm. "I offered you everything, for fuck's sake I kissed you. You told me you weren't interested."

"I lied."

"No, I don't think you did. I think you saw me happy with someone else and realized what you might have missed out on. I think you got jealous."

"I was jealous." Sherlock admitted freely. "I was jealous of Sarah and the one with the spots. And the one with the nose hair. Yes, I was jealous of Moriarty too, even if I wasn't aware that was who it was."

"Then why didn't you say something?" John asked in aggravation. "I was right there Sherlock, you could have spoken up at any time."

"Do you think this comes easy to everyone? Not all of us can fall into relationships the way you seem to."

"Sherlock, I kissed you. All you had to do was say yes, yes John, I want you too. Let's try and make a proper go of this. I don't know how I could have made it any simpler for you. But you told me you weren't interested and you left. How was that easier?"

"I was surprised and confused. It wasn't expecting things to manifest in quite that way. I wasn't prepared."

"Then you should have told me that and I would have backed off, Jesus Sherlock, who the fuck do you think I am? I wouldn't have pressured you or done anything you were uncomfortable with."

"I know that."

"Then why didn't you tell me that? Why did you turn me down flat so I believed there was no hope, that I'd been misreading all those looks, all those moments between us, that it had just been my stupid imagination running away with me, hoping that this was more than it was. Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"Because I was scared." Sherlock yelled and more than a few people turned to look at them. Sherlock sent daggers at them with his eyes and then turned back to John. John simply snorted in disgust and shook his head in response.

"It's not important." John said tugging his fingers through his hair. He was tired, so fucking tired and he just wanted to leave. "We can't go back and too much has happened since then. That feeling's gone, the one I used to get when I looked at you. That excited, butterflies in my stomach, lustful feeling isn't there anymore."

"We could get it back."

"I don't want to." John said getting up out of his seat. He grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and placed a few notes on the table to pay for his coffee. "You know, we could have avoided all this is you had just acted like a fucking grown up for once in your life and had an actual conversation with me. But no, you had to retreat in on yourself because you're too fucking scared of something as simple as emotions. Well congratulations Sherlock, you got what you wanted. You're alone."

"John." Sherlock said to John's back as he turned to leave. "Please."

It was the please that caught John's attention, having never heard those words uttered from Sherlock before. Reluctantly, he turned back and looked at Sherlock expectantly.

"Come home." Sherlock said quietly, unable to meet John's gaze. "Nothing has to happen, I just…please. Come home."

John swallowed, reaching out and gripping his chair, needing something to hold on to. He stared at Sherlock and finally looked at the man, really looked, for the first time since he'd entered the coffee shop. Sherlock's eyes were red-rimmed, deep and dark circles under his eyes, his hair unkempt and messier than usual. His clothes were wrinkled and unlaundered, his cheekbones jutting out more than normal. He looked haggard and John realized Sherlock had been shot and he hadn't even thought to ask if the detective was all right. Obviously he had survived being shot but John had no idea what the recovery had been like.

John had never seen Sherlock like this. Not even on particularly brutal cases that took over a week to solve, where Sherlock nearly starved himself to death, did he look this undone, this distraught. John's heart clenched as if a fist were wrapped around it, squeezing it tightly. It hit him quite suddenly just how much Sherlock needed him, which was something John had never realized before.

He had always thought Sherlock didn't really need anybody and only associated with people when he found them helpful or convenient. John had been fairly certain that Sherlock only kept his around to do the tedious and boring tasks Sherlock didn't feel like doing, such as laundry, shopping or making tea. But he was just now starting to get that maybe it was more than that, went deeper than that.

John sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "I need time, Sherlock. I need to be on my own for awhile. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Sherlock nodded.

"Good."

XXXX

It took two months. Two months for John to get sick of his tiny, depressing flat. Two months for John to be so bored of his life that he wanted to scream. Two months before he started to miss Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, Baker street and everything that came with it.

He still had nightmares, woke up to the sound of Jim screaming. He still took his long walks around London, in the early morning before the sun was up and the world was quiet. He still sometimes fell asleep at Jim's grave, having spent the early morning there just talking.

It took two months for John to decide he was ready to let Sherlock back into his life, even in some small capacity. They'd go back to being flatmates, nothing more. He could forgive Sherlock enough to become that again because he remembered the broken man in a coffee shop, begging him to come home. And in the end, he felt that someone has to be there to save Sherlock from himself.

So John showed up back at Baker Street in the early evening, his two bags under his arms, the rest still at his old flat. He used his key to get in and slowly made his way up the stairs. He could hear Sherlock playing his violin, something slow and melodic and it was familiar, comforting. When John opened the door to their flat, Sherlock didn't even break his stride and just kept playing.

John dropped his bags by the door and went straight into the kitchen to make tea. Sherlock continued playing as John tapped his fingers against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. The water finished and he made two cups, carrying them into the sitting room. He placed one by the desk, close to where Sherlock was playing, staring out the window. Then he sat down in the red chair that was very much his, closed his eyes and listened.

"Welcome home John." Sherlock said without turning around.

And even though John smiled, he could feel Jim's phone in his front jacket pocket, resting right against his heart. An entire romance contained in a single item. The only thing left besides memories and an unmarked grave.

 

END


End file.
